The 100 Themes Challenge
by Caelhir
Summary: 100 prompts, 100 one-shots.
1. Introduction

**The 100 Theme Challenge!**

These are a series of prompts that I found on the internet, and I thought it would be fun to try and come up with a little story of each one. I am not sure if they will all be interconnected. They will all center on Legolas, of COURSE, and involve him and his relationships with others. There may be references to my other stories in them. Please read, review, and most importantly, ENJOY!

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**#1: Introduction**

_by Caelhir_

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_**Year 2951 Third Age of Middle Earth**_

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The moon was a ghostly face grinning widely at the sleeping earth, casting its pale rays upon the ground. The stars winked softly, shining upon the still plain, where there was movement.

A man rode alone over the plain, muddy overcoat flapping against his legs as his horse cantered in a relaxed manner. He had long ago given it its head, allowing it to set its own pace. This made for a more enjoyable ride for both of them.

The horse was strong and sturdy, his powerful legs flexing and rippling as his soft reddish-brown form slipped through the night, the moonlight on his coat dimmed slightly by the mud coating his sides. Any casual observer would easily be able to see, even through the caked mud, that this was a fine animal, born and bred amongst the finest of Rohan.

The man himself also had a regal bearing about him, his head held high. His seat on the horse was one of well-practiced horsemanship. He rode as though it was second nature.

Where he was going he thought grimly, was a place that fairly reeked of the Shadow's influence on the once-fair land. He had heard many times of the beauty that could be found under the boughs of Greenwood, named for the life that thrived there, but now it was called Mirkwood, for it was a dank and gloomy place.

Aragorn, son of Arathorn, foster son of Elrond of Imladris, called Aragorn, had never seen a more desolate place. Elrond had asked him to go to King Thranduil, who had sent a missive for the aid of a healer form Imladris. Several of Thranduil's warriors who had been patrolling the shadowed forest had been set upon by spiders. But these spiders were "like nothing the patrols had ever seen before," or so Thranduil had said.

Now, as Aragorn approached the dark edge of the deep forest, his horse snorted and tossed its head. Stopping, Aragorn slid off of its back and placed a hand on its neck. Taking the reins in his hand, he led the beast onward into the forest.

The weight of the shadows creeping all around him was oppressive. Aragorn shivered and drew his cloak more tightly around him. The air was still and musty, and though it had not been stirred by anything for far too long. He proceeded carefully; Elrohir and Elladan, who had been to Greenwood (_Mirkwood,_ Aragorn told himself._ It's called Mirkwood now._) had not failed to tell him of exactly how many foul and terrifying creatures lived in the plagued wood.

Aragorn had, of course, rolled his eyes and played along at the twins' mentions of the horrific beasts, many-eyed monsters and terrifyingly deadly creatures which supposedly inhabited the woods in which Thranduil reigned. But now as he walked under the leaning shadowed trees, senses on hyper-aware for any movement beyond his own, he thought that there was some merit in the twin elves' words. Perhaps not to the extent of the twelve-legged, six-eyed scaly dragon-like beast which Elrohir had been telling him of, but there was certainly a chance that they had simply been extending and exaggerating what they themselves had heard or been told by others. Aragorn strongly felt that Glorfindel had had some part to play in the story-telling, for Aragorn knew that the golden-haired warrior had been to Mirkwood many times.

Aragorn's head snapped around at the sound of crackling leaves. He was no longer alone, and could not afford this lapse into memory now. Loosening his sword in its sheath, Aragorn patted his horse's neck soothingly, for it had reared its head up at the noise that echoed through the mysteriously quiet trees. The fact that the human had been able to get this far into Mirkwood caused Aragorn to hasten his walk, for Thranduil's patrols were second in vigilance only to Galadriel's in Lorien. For the wood-elves to be absent was an ominous sign.

They continued to walk carefully for another hour. Aragorn could not tell exactly the amount of time that passed between his entering the forest and his present location, but he knew it must have been at least that long. Mirkwood seemed to be trapped in a permanent twilight-like state, neither light nor dark at any given time.

Aragorn decided to stop for the night, as it had been midnight when he had entered the forest, and he would need to be alert to be able to help Thranduil. He followed the sound of a river until he found it, rushing through the trees. It was a thing of beauty, water turned black by the light, and it seemed to sparkle and dance invitingly. Aragorn suddenly realized just how thirsty he really was.

Tying his horse's reins to a low branch and unsaddling it, he set up a rudimentary camp. Pulling his flask out of an inner pocket, Aragorn stepped over to the river and looked into the water. His reflection appeared distorted and odd in the rapid water. He lowered his flask into the water.

He gasped at how icy cold the water was. He had not been expecting it! He quickly filled his flask, and withdrew his hand. He retreated to his bedroll and was about to take a drink when he heard the same crinkling, cracking sound as before. He froze, looking warily around, the settled back. He lifted the flask to his lips and drank deeply.

Out of nothing, out of nowhere, spiders exploded into the clearing. Aragorn choked on the water, swallowed, and leapt to his feet drawing his sword. Plunging into the mass of spiders, he hacked and swiped at them, killing some and only dismembering a few. He staggered: lightheadedness attacked him, and he leaned against the tree. His mind screamed at him to get up, to fight, to kill, but his body did not respond. Had he been stung? He hadn't felt it, but he supposed it was possible.

Further thought was impossible as Aragorn slumped to the ground. The spiders, who had retreated, seemingly sensing that their prey was weak, surged forwards to finish him. He despaired quietly and waited for death. He prayed it would be quick.

A flash of dark gold flared in front of him, and the spiders' stings and bites never came. Flurries of movement in front of him confused his muddled brain, and his vision finally went dark.

Aragorn's hearing came to him first. He could hear movements around him, soft and quiet, unlike the sharp hasty movements of the spiders. He shifted slightly to test that he could feel and that he was truly still miraculously alive.

The soft movements above him stopped and a voice spoke quietly to him, half sneering, half-laughing.

"So the mighty warrior awakens!"

Aragorn groaned before he could stop himself. He had been warned by Glorfindel that the wood-elves were private, slightly xenophobic people, with strong prejudices and dislikes firmly in place. Of course his luck would bring him to meet one who seemed to have very strong anti-human feelings.

Without opening his eyes, he said, "THank you. I assume you were the one who fought the spiders?"

The light voice, laced with humored venom, answered smoothly.

"Of course. You seemed too sleepy to do it yourself, and far be it from me to be the one who allows anyone to die on my watch, human or not." There was a slight pause, as though the elf was deciding what to say. "I may not like your kind, human, but I do respect your life."

Aragorn said nothing, merely cracked open his eyes to see the canopy of the forest rustling above him. He sat up, and leaned against the tree, still slightly dizzy. Looking for the elf he had been speaking to, he found that there was no elf in sight. he looked around dazedly before the languid voice said, "Up here, human."

Looking up, Aragorn saw a pair of bright eyes regarding him for the shelter of a tree. The face was in shadow, but there was no doubt that this elf was one of the King's warriors.

With a slight rustle, the elf dropped form the tree like a cat and sat on the ground, a good twelve feet away from Aragorn.

The elf looked to be a little older than Elrohir and Elladan. He had dark golden hair, darker than Glorfindel's, and ice-blue eyes. He had his head cocked to one side, and seemed to be studying Aragorn even as the human regarded the elf. He was dressed in the dark apparel of a hunter, clothing that blended into the background of the forest. Equipped with a fine bow and a quiver of arrows, the elf also carried a set of two long knives, strapped to the quiver. More convenient for killing spiders than a sword, Aragorn supposed.

"What is your name, human?"

The elf seemed less vicious now, and more curious. Aragorn replied, but used his Imladris-given name instead of his true name. The elf had saved his life, after all.

"My name is Estel. I am from Rivendell. Lord Elrond-"

"You are human."

The elf's voice was flat, emotionless. It seemed to Aragorn that the elf was perplexed about something.

"Yes," Aragorn answered carefully. "I am a human. Lord Elrond adopted me. That is how I am from Rivendell."

The elf seemed to struggle with himself for a moment before nodding in acceptance. "Go on," he said quietly.

"Lord Elrond has sent me to King Thranduil to assist in the matter of warriors who have been stricken ill by spiders."

"Ah, yes," said the elf. "That is what I was told. Though I did think they'd send an elf..."

He trailed off, glancing about him, then standing suddenly, he offered a hand to Aragorn.

"Come, these woods are dangerous. We must go to the palace."

Aragorn took the proffered hand and pulled himself up. As soon as he did so, the elf let go of the human and stepped away from him.

"I took the liberty of packing your horse." The elf whistled a tune and another horse, light and agile, tripped softly into the clearing. "Come, let us go."

The two rode in silence until Aragorn, able to stand it no longer, asked, "What is your name? Who are you, and why did you help me?"

The elf did not answer, but simply stared ahead, icy eyes piercing the gloom, but not seeming to see anything. Aragorn was on the verge of asking again when the elf spoke.

"Seeing you drink the water, then be set upon brought back many menories for me, human. Do you have any brothers?"

"Yes," Aragorn said quietly, "Two."

"Well," said the elf, nodding slowly, "I have...a brother as well." He seemed to hesitate slightly before confirming the number of brothers he had. He shook his head and continued. "We were very young, and he wandered away from the palace. Well, he ran away, actually..."

The elf told Aragorn about how his younger brother had drunk from the same river that Aragorn himself just had, and a similar situation had occurred, only in place of spiders, there had been a wolf.

"...and my brother had no chance whatsoever to defend himself. He drank quite a lot more water than you did, I think, and with him being so young, well, it affected him quite heavily. Our father shot the wolf, though, and we raced to his side. I despaired, thinking my brother was dead, but our father figured out that he had drunk from the Caimaduin, the sleeping river."

At Aragorn's startled look, the elf laughed softly. "Yes human, that is the famous Caimaduin for which Greenwood is known. You are lucky you were only asleep for a few hours."

Aragorn pondered this, then realized that the elf had not answered his question at all, he asked again, "Who are you?"

The elf seemed to consider him for a moment before saying, "You are from Rivendell, so I can only assume you are not a dark man, and with everything I have heard here and there for many years now, I can safely assume that you are the heir of Isildur?"

Aragorn nearly toppled off his horse in shock. The elf was more intelligent that Aragorn had originally given him credit for!

"How-how-?" he croaked, "How-?"

The elf regarded him seriously.

"We in Greenwood, called Mirkwood, are more perceptive than many seem to think. Elrond's secret has not been known to many, only to some, and I am not aware that he knows of my knowledge of you. And for some reason," he said slowly, "I do not think you are like Isildur. I think you are stronger than he, and I am an exceptional judge of character."

Ignoring Aragorn's astonished gasps and incoherent spluttering, the elf continued.

"I am Thoronsul, son of King Thranduil, and I am very glad you have come."

Aragorn's mind reeled again. The son of the King? The Crown Prince of Mirkwood? He had heard Thoronsul's name spoken with respect bordering on reverence by the elves of Imladris. This elf was rumored to have killed an entire band of orcs who had held his mother hostage at one point, as well as many other great deeds!

Finally finding his voice, Aragorn said, "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Thoronsul, son of Thranduil. I am at your service."

"And I at yours, for many of the warriors who lay ill at this moment are my friends, and one is my brother, Legolas."

Legolas had been mentioned a few times to Aragorn by Elladan and Elrohir, the latter mostly. He had never met the wood elf for himself, but had heard many times of his character and deeds from the twins, Glorfindel, Erestor (who seemed to think that Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas were only good for trouble and killing orcs) and even Elrond himself.

As Aragorn and Thoronsul rode onward to the palace of Mirkwood, Aragorn felt that this moment would be very important to his future. For now, however, he was content to ride in silence, thinking about the task ahead, and the winding road of the future.

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If you see errors, please point them out (kindly!). Review please!


	2. Love

Here is prompt No. 2! I'm loving this whole "100 Themes Challenge", and having finished _Long, Long Journey,_ I'll be spending more time on this! I have so many awesome ideas that will supplement my universe, and future stories as well! Just a note: In my universe, Legolas was born in T.A 129, the same year as Elladan and Elrohir.

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**#2: Love**

_by Caelhir_

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_**Year 250 Third Age of Middle Earth**_

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The setting sun cast its rays upon a beautiful garden. In the garden, there was a multitude of lovely flowers and bushes and trees. Clearly, the garden was well-kept and manicured, for everything seemed to be trimmed and tidy. The stone paths were clear of brambles and the trees were tall and strong.

Under one such tree sat two elves. They sat quite close, in fact, their arms about each other. Both of their lovely faces gazed into the setting sun, watching as another day that they had spent solely in the other's company swiftly drew to a close. The two elves had been alone all day together.

Well, _almost_ alone.

Another elf sat in the very tree that they leant against. His face was fixed in an expression of disgusted boredom as he watched to two elves turn toward each other, move even closer, and begin to kiss.

The elf in the tree, whose name was Legolas, made a face as his older brother Thoronsul kissed the maiden. Legolas was determined not to look. He had been innocently minding his own business, plotting his revenge for a prank Thoronsul had pulled on him a week ago. It had involved Thoronsul secretly putting a dye in Legolas' soap that had turned the younger elf's skin green for several days. Legolas still fancied he looked seasick when he looked in the mirror.

He frowned, thinking of ways to get out of his tree without Thoronsul or the maiden knowing it.

His dilemma was resolved as Thoronsul jumped to his feet, extended a hand to the maiden and pulled her up, saying softly,

"Let's go back to the palace. I want to introduce you to my father."

Legolas breathed a sigh of relief as Thoronsul led the girl away. Carefully, the young elf began to climb down the tree, jumping the last few feet and taking off towards the palace as well.

Legolas travelled a slightly shorter and more secret way that would guarantee that he could get back to the palace before his brother.

Once back at the palace, Legolas began to formulate his plot for revenge. It was a simple trick, really, and it would most certainly make up for the green skin trick.

Making his way to the healing wing, Legolas sought out the chief healer, a fun-loving and cheerful elf named Galenwë who had helped Legolas and Thoronsul play tricks on each other since before they could remember. The reason he helped both of them, he said, was so that he would not have pranks played on him by one of the brothers for aiding the other brother's trick.

Galenwë was there, mixing several herbs into a simmering cauldron. Legolas approached, put on his very best most innocent face he had ever had, and spoke.

"Galenwë?"

The healer glanced down to see the young elf peeping into the cauldron curiously. Sighing, the older elf pushed the younger one gently away from the pot.

"Careful, Legolas. You'll burn your nose."

Leading Legolas away form the mixing station, Galenwë sat on a bed and Legolas sat opposite him, fidgeting slightly.

"Now," said Galenwë, "Did you need something?"

At Legolas' fidgety silence, Galenwë raised a suspicious eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

"Are you, by any chance, coming up with a plan to get back at your brother for that prank he pulled on you with the soap and the green skin?"

Legolas' eyes brightened and he nodded eagerly.

Galenwë grinned.

"Well, what did you have in mind, then?"

Legolas explained his plan to Galenwë, whose own eyes brightened as well. He laughed after Legolas reached the end of explaining.

"Very good! Oh, this _will_ be worth having a part to play! Very well, very well! Shall we?"

The healer gestured to the mixing station. Legolas leapt to his feet, Galenwë on his heels, and the two elves proceeded to create a potion that would serve Legolas' plan perfectly.

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"Now, you know how to use it?"

Yes, Galenwë."

All right, be careful. I don't want to see you get caught, understand?"

"Yes sir!"

The enthusiastic elfling ran off, clutching his prize to his chest. Galenwë shook his head and wondered if the prank war between the two brothers would ever cease.

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_The Next Morning..._

The sun had only just crested the treetops of Greenwood when from the palace came a loud shout-

"_Legolas! I will murder you!"_

For many years to come, the elves of Greenwood would be happily regaling their guests and friends with the hilarious story of the pink-haired Prince of Greenwood, and how Legolas had spent a week hiding because Thoronsul the pink-haired prince had been seen in the library and with Galenwë feverishly looking for better revenge ideas. The younger prince was wise enough to avoid his rosy-haired brother.

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And that's it for number two! Short, sweet and to the point! Stay tuned, and review!


	3. Light

All right, number three! *evil cackle* Number three... I ask only that you not kill me or smash your computer after this...

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#3: Light

by Caelhir

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_**Year 1601 Third Age of Middle Earth**_

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"You will never beat me!"

"Perhaps not, but I will hit you a fair few times!"

Two elves danced around each other, bright keen swords flashing in the sunlight that bathed them in the early morning.

The taller of the two, a broad, muscular elf whose chestnut hair was pulled back into a single braid that whipped about him as he moved away from his opponent's weapon, laughed as he spun away from his combatant. Elrohir was having a good morning so far.

The other elf, lithe and lean like a cat with dark golden hair that gleamed in the sun, spun as well to regain his footing and faced Elrohir. Legolas eyed him warily. Elrohir was stronger than he, but Legolas was quicker and smaller, more agile. This might be one of the few contests in which Legolas came out the loser.

Without warning, Elrohir rushed Legolas, and the attack began anew. Legolas and Elrohir spun around each other, locked in an intricate and dangerous dance. Neither aimed to injure the other, though they both had cuts and bruises from falls and close calls. They were simply two friends enjoying a perfect opportunity for showing off and perhaps some bragging rights when it was all over.

Legolas ducked under Elrohir's swing and brushed past him, saying,

"Ha! If we were in battle, you'd be dead!"

Elrohir spun to face the other elf and rushed him again, saying in return,

"If we were in battle, _you_ would be the dead one, for I most certainly would have killed you when you tripped awhile back!"

Legolas' eyes flashed in annoyance.

"I tripped over your cloak after you threw it at me!"

"No matter, I still win!"

They continued, prowling around each other, then rushing at each other to test themselves and each other. For most of the morning they had been repeating this,, occasionally switching their attack and defense strategies, creating wild and hilarious scenarios in which they were both terribly outnumbered and there was a fair maiden who needed their rescuing.

Now Elrohir jumped at Legolas again, but his foot caught on a hidden mole-hole, and his weight was carried forward by his momentum. As he hit the ground, loosing his grip on his sword, he heard a terrible cry form above him. His face hit the ground hard, and he lay stunned for a moment, or maybe several, for the world seemed to spin and wink in and out of clarity.

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Legolas gasped as Elrohir tripped and stepped forward to grab his arm. Before he could move another inch, Elrohir's sword was coming closer to him, too close, shining deadly and right and he closed his eyes, for it was happening too fast for him to do anything-

Legolas stared blankly at the sword that was stuck in his abdomen,. It seemed a strange thing, so unnatural, so alien to his body, that he wondered that he felt no pain-

Elrohir's fall was arrested by the ground and the sword was brutally ripped from Legolas-

And then began the pain.

All-consuming, terrible, sweeping, blinding, it coursed over him. It devoured him, tearing at his being, and before he fell, shock turning his vision dim, he let out a throat-ripping scream.

Looking at the sky, he marvelled at the beauty of it, of the clouds, the birds, the trees, the sun...

His world faded to hazy grey as he fell back to the earth.

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When his senses righted themselves, Elrohir blinked to regain his bearing. As his eyes focused, he saw the handle of his sword in front of him. Reaching for it, Elrohir rolled onto his feet.

His eyes widened and he dropped the sword to the ground again.

Legolas lay on the ground, eyes blankly staring at the sky. His sword lay beside him, a silver flash in the green grass. Yet what Elrohir had seen first was the blood. There was so much blood.

Legolas' middle had been punctured, torn by some devilry Elrohir could not imagine, Elrohir was sure, for who else could attack his friend at his own moment of weakness? His mind flew to hidden attackers, and he tensed, picking up the sword again. Another flash of red caught the corner of his eye, and he glanced down.

He reeled back in horror as he saw that it was the blade of his own sword that was bathed in red, glinting gruesomely in the sun. Elrohir cried out and flung the sword away from himself and dug at his face with his fingers as he realized what the blood-bathed sword meant.

He could not have... he could _not _have... he could not have killed his friend. He could not stop shaking, the horror pumping through his veins as deadly as poison, crippling him to act, to check, to make sure...

He snapped his head up and crawled over to Legolas, staring down at the elf. Tears fell from his eyes onto the still from of the elf, mixing with the blood.

Elrohir reached to the pale elf's neck and felt for a pulse he knew he would not find-

Yet there _was_ a pulse! Faint and irregular, yet a pulse nonetheless!

Elrohir's breath hitched in his chest as he realized that Legolas was still alive. Standing, he looked vainly around for help. He couldn't get Legolas back to his home quickly by himself, and in any case, he knew it would be a push to carry the other elf the whole way himself. He closed his eyes and reached through the bond he shared with Elladan, sending a desperate plea for help and to come quickly.

Elrohir knew it would be pointless to try and move now, so he knelt by Legolas, and stripping off his tunic, pressed it gently to the terrible wound.

Legolas stirred and his eyes opened. Elrohir had not noticed the other shutting his eyes. Legolas stared into the sky, eyes bright with his pain, and jaw firmly set as he battled for control of the pain.

Turning his eyes to Elrohir, Legolas smiled weakly.

Elrohir felt the tears spring back to his eyes. Legolas' smile had been terribly accepting, as though the fair elf was giving up, giving in...

"No," Elrohir said to Legolas. "No. You will not give in to this. Please, my friend, stay here. Stay with me!"

Legolas' following sigh ended in a cry of pain, and Elrohir bowed his head, speaking quietly to Legolas.

"Legolas, I- I am so sorry. I know those are hollow words, and I can't even verbalize how truly sorry I am... but 'sorry' doesn't even begin to..."

Legolas shook his head, his voice shaky but firm as he spoke over Elrohir.

"Do not blame yourself. It well could have been me who tripped, and you would tell me the same thing, I am sure. It was an _accident, _Elrohir. An accident."

Elrohir smiled as well now, falsely and wordlessly, masking to true horror he still felt at his own actions.

As the day slipped by, however, Elrohir began to mentally kick himself for deciding to travel as far away from Imladris as they had. Elrohir had wanted to show Legolas the excellent new swimming hole he and Elladan had found, which meant that they were quite far from Rivendell, several hours' walk or ride at least.

Legolas' condition appeared to be deteriorated as quickly as the sun was sliding across the sky as well. Several times Elrohir had looked down at him only to see that the elf's eyes were closed and his breathing shallow.

Legolas opened his eyes, which had closed again. Looking up at Elrohir, he said in a pitifully soft voice, "It hurts, Elrohir."

Elrohir's guilt and shame slammed into him again, and he ducked his head, smoothing Legolas' damp hair from the fair face, whispering softly, "I know, my friend. I'm sorry. There's... there's nothing I can do until Elladan arrives."

"...And he has arrived, brother!"

At the sound of his twin's jovial greeting, Elrohir jumped and turned slightly to see Elladan walk out of the foliage into the clearing. His face twisted into a frown as he took in the sight before him. From his angle, he could not see Legolas' body fully.

"What happened?"

Elladan reached his brother's side and gasped in horror. Falling to his knees beside Elrohir, he reached out and placed a hand on Legolas' brow.

"What _happened_, Elrohir?"

Elrohir buried his face in his hands, feeling the wind brush across his bare chest.

"Elrohir happened, Elladan. I did this. I did it."

As he said it, he felt it slam home to him even more: he _had_ done this, he had done this to his friend!

Elladan pulled Elrohir's hands from his face and forced his brother to meet his eyes.

It had always surprised Elrohir and Elladan to know that their eyes were not identical as their faces and bodies. Elladan's eyes, though the same color blue as Elrohir's, were slightly different, though neither twin could say what made their eyes separate from the other's.

"I think there is more to what happened here, brother of mine, but now is not the time nor the place. It is fast approaching sunset, and Legolas needs medical attention right now. Come."

Standing, Elladan and Elrohir helped Legolas to stand, though his legs seemed to have none of their usual strength. The twins each pulled one of Legolas' arms over their own shoulders and they slow party made their way back to Rivendell.

Several hours passed uneventfully in silence save for Legolas' occasional groan or cry before they reached the House of Elrond and started up the front steps.

Quickly, the brothers made their way to the healing ward, not answering any of the questions directed at them. Bursting through the door, Elladan groaned to find it empty.

Taking Legolas from his brother, he nodded at the door.

"Find Ada."

When Elrohir did not move, eyes locked onto Legolas' pale face, glistening form the sweat that covered it in a shiny sheen, Elladan snapped,

"Elrohir! Go find Ada or he will certainly die!"

Elrohir's eyes widened, and he turned and fled from the room. Elladan shook his head as his brother's pounding footsteps down upon Elrond's newest patient, Elladan sighed.

"You, my friend," he said sadly, "are in for a long night."

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Review and I'll write the next part!


	4. Dark

Many thanks to misscruel, JaydeRayne, Leo-firefly, HobbitMidget and Muse10 for reviewing!

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**#4: Dark**

_by Caelhir_

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_**Year 1601 Third Age of Middle Earth**_

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"Ada! _Ada!"_

Elrond looked up in mild surprise as Elrohir skidded into his office, shirtless and nearly falling over onto the floor as he bent over gasping for air. His nose was bleeding and there was dirt and his face.

"What," Elrond said calmly, "is so badly wrong that you feel the need to-"

Elrond stopped short as Elrohir looked up at his father. There was such a look of utter guilt and despondent pain in his son's eyes that Elrond stood and stepped quickly to his son's side.

"What is it, Elrohir? Tell me what is wrong!"

Elrohir squeezed his eyes shut.

"Legolas has been injured," Elrohir said quietly, straightening, opening his eyes and looking at his father. After a moment's hesitation, he added, "Badly."

Elrond immediately nodded and said simply, "Lead the way, my son."

On the way to the Healing Ward, Elrohir was unnaturally silent. Of his two sons, Elladan was quiet and reserved, and Elrohir was usually chatting constantly about something new he had learned, or a new place he had found or something of that sort.

Now, as father and son walked quickly to the healing rooms, Elrond noted his son's lack of speech, and wondered at it. Had Elrohir had something to do with Legolas' injury? And where on earth was that boy's shirt? It was more like Glorfindel or Legolas himself to walk about Imladris half-naked than either of his sons.

They reached the Healing Wing and stepped inside. Elladan sat next to Legolas on a bed, whispering reassurances to the other, who had turned pale white and whose eyes glistened brightly in pain as the elf looked to the door.

Elrond's eyes went to Legolas' middle, where Elladan held what appeared to be Elrohir's absent tunic to a bloody wound. Though the tunic covered most of Legolas' stomach, the blood had seeped through and stained Elladan's hands.

Elrond flew to his other son's side and sat on the bed as well, glancing up at Legolas' face. Legolas' eyes had turned to Elrond and now regarded him in a dull way, as though willing him to do and have done. Turning back to the wound hidden by the tunic, Elrond began to speak to Legolas, partly to find out what happened, partly to keep the wood elf concentrating on something so he wouldn't slip further into shock.

"So, Master Legolas," he began in a falsely cheerful voice, "what have you gotten yourself into now?"

The other elf smiled thinly and responded in a weak and tremulous voice.

"Nothing more than the usual mishap, Lord Elrond."

"I meant for you to tell me what happened, Legolas." Elrond reprimanded gently.

"I know." Legolas sighed and tried to shift around but Elladan's hands on his shoulders prevented it, as well as the sharp pain that assailed him as he moved. He fell back with a hiss that he tried to keep behind bared teeth. He opened his eyes and regarded Elladan seriously, and then, his eyes moved to Elrohir.

"Elrohir and I were... practicing our... swordsmanship when Elrohir tripped on... something on the ground... and I..."

Legolas saw Elrohir stiffen and saw his eyes flash in pain and guilt before he continued.

"...And I stumbled back as well... unfortunately for me... my sword fell out of my hand... and I fell upon it, though... I am not... Turin, my lord."

Elrond heard Elrohir make a strange noise and turned to look at him, but Elrohir's face was set and hard. Turning back to the elf, Elrond lifted the tunic, preparing himself for the worst.

It was terrible, Elrond had to admit. That sword had done a lot of damage, he noted, tearing and ripping as it had left the elf's body. Elrond continued to speak to Legolas as he stood and walked away to wash his hands.

"You must have fallen very hard. Did the sword go far in?"

Legolas gazed up at the ceiling, as though trying to remember.

"I think so, my lord."

"You think so? Did you not see?" Elrond know his questions seemed harsh, but he needed to know so he could ascertain just how much damage had been inflicted.

Legolas nodded slowly. "Yes, I saw. It was.. it was... rather deep, I suppose."

Elrond shook his head at the stubborn elf. "I do declare, Legolas, you might one day have an oliphaunt's tusk through your chest and all you would say was that it complimented your tunic."

Legolas smiled, not really paying attention. His mind begged him to drift away, just to give into the terrible pain that burned coldly in his abdomen and fall into the back haze on the edges of his sight. He admitted to himself that he very much wanted to.

Elrond was speaking again, but Legolas couldn't make out much of what he said. His ears were ringing, and he saw Elladan's worried face as the tall elf leaned over him, saying something else that Legolas couldn't hear.

He felt a strange sensation in his heart, like it was trying to tell him something, but he was sliding away, grey overcoming his vision and causing everything to flash in and out of focus. He caught glimpses of Elladan's faec, then Elrohir's, and finally Elrond's concerned face swam in front of his vision. He felt hands on his shoulders, shaking him, and thought he vaguely heard voices calling him, but sensation and hearing departed from him, and finally, his vision faded away as well, leaving him in a painful, silent world, where he could not speak, and could not hear nor touch. Then, quite suddenly, there was nothing at all.

_/\/\/\/\/\/\_

Elrond let go of Legolas' wrist, where he felt for a pulse, and nodded at his sons.

"He lives," he said quietly, "but not for much longer if we delay. He is in massive shock and losing blood rapidly. Elrohir, go get Glorfindel and Erestor, I'll need their help, and Elladan, go and wash up. You'll be helping me as well."

The sons of Elrond nodded and set off immediately, leaving the room at the same time.

Once outside the healing wing, Elladan seized Elrohir's bare shoulder and stopped him from moving any further.

"Elrohir," he said firmly. "What really happened out there? I don't believe for a moment that Legolas fell upon his own sword by accident."

Elrohir met his brother's gaze and held it, eyes icy and raging.

"If he told you that is what happened, why should you have any reason to disbelieve him?"

With that, Elrohir ducked under his brother's arm and set off towards his room to retrieve a shirt. Elladan sighed and went to change as well, knowing he'd need to be clean for the following procedure. Whatever his brother was hiding about the accident could wait, Elladan hoped.

_/\/\/\/\/\/\_

Once clothed, Elrohir set off to find Erestor and Glorfindel. Why his father needed Erestor was clear; Erestor was a rather skilled healer himself, but then again so was Elladan. Why Glorfindel was needed was baffling, for Glorfindel had made it clear early and often that he wanted nothing to do with healing beyond his basic battlefield training.

Elrohir found Erestor in the library, standing in front of a group of elflings who seemed to want nothing more than to run away from the older elf's reprimands about how to treat the library.

"...And another thing! This is a library, not a barn! You are _not_ to play games here, you are _not_ to be noisy, nad you are _not_ allowed to..."

Calling out, Elrohir greeted the other elf and the elflings, seeing their opportunity, scampered away, several shooting Elrohir grateful looks.

Erestor looked upon Elrohir with faint annoyance.

"Yes?"

The thing about Erestor, Elrohir though, was that he had to be in exactly the right mood to have a conversation that would be even a little bit reasonable. Elrohir shook his head and told Elrohir that Elrond wanted to see him and Glorfindel in the healing wing right away.

Erestor raised an eyebrow.

"Why? Has some idiot elfling gotten himself stabbed in a training bout, or fallen out of a tree?"

Elrohir winced. _Almost, Erestor_, he thought guiltily.

Erestor, seeing the effect of his words upon the younger elf, softened his features and nodded.

"You'll find Glorfindel in the back room. He's supposed to be working on copying a manuscript he ruined in that incident with the wine and fire, but I'd bet my best pair of socks that he's asleep."

Nodding his thanks, Elrohir moved past Erestor, who made his way up the the Healing Wing, wondering who on earth had been injured now.

Elrohir opened the door to the quiet room at the back of the library to find that, sure enough, Glorfindel was indeed asleep, facedown on a book that smelled of ash and wine. Tapping the golden-haired elf sharply on his head, Elrohir was reminded forcibly of Legolas' wound as he saw Glorfindel's bleary eyes move onto himself.

"Hmmph?" Glorfindel mumbled indistinctly as he regained his senses. "Oh, Elrohir, glad you're here. Say, would you mind getting me something to eat? Erestor's been keeping me in here all day, and I'm starving!"

"Ada needs you in the healing wings immediately." Elrohir was feeling worse and worse by the second, and didn't want to speak very much any more.

Glorfindel raised his head off of his arms and regarded Elrohir seriously.

"All right, then."

He sighed as he stood and walked out of the library, the silent Elrohir behind him.

I suppose I'll get something to eat later, then," he lamented.

Once they got to the Healing Wing, both elves noticed the tense atmosphere and exchanged glances before Glorfindel opened the door.

Elrond was bent over a prone Legolas, who stared at the ceiling, seemingly half-conscious. Erestor stood at Elrond's side, looking on with a faintly apprehensive and nauseated look on his face. Elladan sat by Legolas' feet, propping them up above the horizontal elf's heart, better to stop the shock.

Glorfindel took in the wound on his young friend's body and crossed the room in three great strides, appearing to Elrohir like a mother bear furious that her cub has been hurt. Elrohir, for his own part, closed his eyes briefly and followed Glorfindel.

_/\/\/\/\/\/\_

Glorfindel and Erestor now present, Elrond could begin to operate properly. All he had done up until this point had been to examine the wound best he could. Now he turned to Glorfindel and spoke quietly to him, clearly not wanting to risk the fact that Legolas might be awake and listening.

"I'm gong to have to cut open the wound further. I need to repair his insides and fix everything that I can't repair from outside. Erestor, I need you to do everything I tell you, please. I will need you, Glorfindel, to hold him down in case he reacts from... from the pain."

At this, Glorfindel regarded Elrond sharply.

"Why aren't you putting him under?"

"I can't risk that he falls into a coma. His injuries are quite severe, Glorfindel, and that happens sometimes, so if I drug him into a stupor, he's at high risk for, well, dying if I put him under."

Glorfindel blinked, surprised at Elrond's harsh words, for the tall elf had seen Elrond give wounded warriors herbs for pain before now. With a quiet, "Yes, my lord," he moved to Legolas' shoulders to do what Elrond had told him.

Looking down at the pale young elf, Glorfindel felt a terrible pang of sadness. This was the same elf whom he had taken under his wing here in Imladris as his own protégé. He and Legolas had developed a special bond as mentor and student, and beyond that, they had become fast friends, sharing jokes and drinks and stories.

Glorfindel gripped the young elf's shoulders as Legolas looked up at him, seeming to clear his head. Pain entered the younger elf's eyes as he looked up at Glorfindel.

"Hello, my friend," Glorfindel said merrily, smiling at his friend. "How are you feeling?"

Elrond, Erestor, Elladan, and Elrohir shot him scandalized looks, but Legolas smiled wanly and answered softly.

"Perhaps... not as well as normal... but I'll be back to drinking you... under the table in... no time at all."

Glorfindel laughed.

"Not so fast, Legolas. I don't think you've ever beaten _me_ at a drinking contest!"

Legolas, for his part, smiled more widely and closed his eyes. Elrond hissed at Glorfindel and when the elf looked at him, the elf lord indicated that he was about to start the operation.

Glorfindel looked back down at Legolas and gripped the elf's bare shoulders tightly. Elrond began to cut and the younger elf, though his wound had been numbed, opened his eyes suddenly, and raised a hand to Glorfindel. The standing elf seized the prince's shaking hand and gripped it firmly, saying, "It' will be all right my friend. It will be all right. I am here with you."

Over and over again, he repeated this mantra, holding the elf's hand and speaking in his ear. Through Legolas' cries and screams, Glorfindel reassured him. _It will be all right, it will be all right._

_/\/\/\/\/\/\_

Elrohir cringed at every cry Legolas let loose. Every cry, his mind seemed to taunt him, saying, _This is your fault. Your fault!_

Finally, Elrohir cold stand it no longer. He could not bear to see Legolas like this, in so much pain because of Elrohir himself. Standing suddenly and causing Elladan to jump, he strode out of the room, heading to his own room, where he flung himself onto his bed, images flashing through his mind of Legolas lying on the ground, Legolas looking into the sky, Legolas' eyes, his face...

Elrohir pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to block out the thought now screaming in his head.

_Your fault! Your fault! Your fault!_

_/\/\/\/\/\/\_

Elrond sat back, wiping a hand across his brow. There was still work to be done regarding Legolas' wound, but his hands were cramping and he needed to rest for a moment before he made a mistake. Glorfindel looked up as well, silently asking what Elrond was doing.

"I am not finished yet, Glorfindel. I am merely trying to regain my balance, if you will. I fear I grow tired."

Glorfindel looked down at the face of his friend. Legolas seemed to still be clinging to consciousness, though how was anyone's guess. The traumatic ordeal should shut down every non-vital part of Legolas, yet his eyes were open and staring around, tear-filled and agonized. Glorfindel looked back at Elrond.

"Are you quite sure there's nothing you can give him? Even if it was something small?"

Elrond regarded his patient silently. He knew the effects of drugging a patient as severely wounded as Legolas, he had seen it happen many times. A long, unending coma, and then death as the body eventually gave up trying to fight the drug and the pain, on top of trying to heal a traumatic wound. Yet Elrond had also given wounded warriors of Glorfindel's painkilling herbs before. In this situation, Elrond feared that more was at stake than Legolas' body.

From what Elrond had gathered, from Elrohir's stricken visage and Elladan's regard of his twin, along with what Legolas had attempted to hide, Elrond knew that more than an accident had taken place in that clearing away from Imladris. Legolas' spirit might have taken a heavy blow as well, and if the spirit wasn't strong enough to overcome the pain-killing drugs, and neither was the body, Elrond feared to give Legolas what he knew the younger elf deserved.

Elrond had seen such a death twice. The first time the elf had been betrayed by a human friend, knifed, and left for dead. Elrond had given the elf pain killers only to return later to find the elf was sleeping, never to be awoken. The second time, one of Glorfindel's warriors had been shot twice by accident, mistaken for a wolf while on a mission. That elf as well had fallen into an unending sleep which resulted in thier death.

Since Legolas was not only his sons' friend but the prince of the largest elven realm in Arda, Elrond was highly reluctant to risk the prince's life. Elrond shook his head.

"I can't take that risk."

Glorfindel looked away, disappointment and something akin to anger in his eyes.

_It isn't right for Legolas to suffer so, _Glorfindel thought angrily. He squeezed the wounded elf's shoulder's reassuringly. Legolas craned his head up to see Glorfindel's face and made to speak. Leaning his head down to Legolas' face, Glorfindel turned his ear to hear the whisper.

"Where is Ada?"

Glorfindel sighed sadly. Legolas had asked this question of Glorfindel three times already, and all three times Glorfindel had been forced to tell the suffering elf that Thranduil was not there, that he was back in Greenwood. Legolas had, every time without fail, asked if Glorfindel could go get Thranduil. Glorfindel could see that Legolas' comprehension was dwindling into nothing and his whole being was slowly giving up to the pain. It had been hours and hours since he had been wounded, and he hadn't even been given anything to ease his pain apart from the strange numbing liquid Elrond had used on the wound. Glorfindel could see it hadn't helped much.

He held Legolas back as the other tried to sit up, falling back without the required energy to cry out at the pain. It looked to Glorfindel, as he restrained Legolas for the eighth time, that Legolas was now unable to connect moving with pain.

Legolas needed to be taken care of now. It could not wait anymore. Looking back at Elrond, Glorfindel spoke in a commanding and slightly angry voice.

"My lord Elrond," he said. "I have seen my warriors wounded so, and worse, and you have given them herbs to ease their pain. I ask you to do so now or I will take the liberty of doing so myself!"

Elrond, instead of becoming angry or impatient with Glorfindel, sighed, his head dropping forward to stare at the water basin. He rested that way for a moment, then spoke quietly.

"It is risky, Glorfindel."

"I know, my lord."

"He could die."

"Then let him end his days in peace instead of this terrible pain!" Glorfindel had reached the end of his already-short rope. "He asks for his father, Elrond! He knows not that moving causes pain, he is delerious! He is losing his mind!"

Elrond looked out the window.

"Perhaps a small dose," he said musingly. "Enough to ward away the pain."

Glorfindel smiled thinly and squezzed Legolas' shoudlers reassuingly.

"Do not fear, penneth," Glorfindel said to the younger elf. "Relief is on its way."

_/\/\/\/\/\/\_

Three hours of delicate and dangerous work later, Elladan slipped out of the ward and made his way to Elrohir's room. Though they had shared a room until they were adolescents, they had made the decision to separate to their own rooms for privacy as they grew older. That, and Elladan was compulsively messy where Elrohir was so strictly tidy that there was never more than one loose thing on his floor at one time.

Opening the door without knocking, Elladan stepped in and leaned against the closed door. Elrohir was sitting on his bed, hands over his eyes, leaning against the headboard. Elladan walked over and sat down next to him and threw an arm over his twin's shoulder, saying nothing. Mentally, he asked his brother what was wrong.

The twins had never been able to speak in words through their bond, exactly. It was more that they could communicate emotions, desires, needs or vague thoughts to one another.

Now Elladan made use of that and asked without words what bothered his twin. He thought he had a vague idea of what was disturbing Elrohir from his words back in the clearing, but Elladan wanted to hear it from Elrohir.

"I wanted to show him that new swimming hole we found last week."

Elrohir started speaking without any preamble. His voice was blank and he lowered his hands from his eyes, which were hollow and guilty, racked by sadness.

"We brought our swords because Legolas wanted to spar. We practiced in that clearing..."

Elrohir spoke and Elladan listened as his brother told him what had happened in the clearing, and why Legolas was now lying unconscious in the Healing Wing.

As the story came out, Elladan felt his own pain grow. The terrible guilt his brother was feeling was pushed through their bond and Elladan was shocked at its tangibility.

When Elrohir finished, Elladan stood and pulled his brother to his feet, saying bracingly, "Come now, Elrohir. I'm sure Ada has finished up by now. We can go see Legolas now."

Elrohir jerked his arm form Elladan.

"Don't you get it?" he hissed. "I stabbed him! _I stabbed Legolas!I _I'm the reason for all of this, it's my_ fault!"_

Elladan regarded Elrohir.

"Yes, I understand that it was you who did it," he said harshly, and he cringed inside to see Elrohir's wide-eyed look of reproach, "But I know you didn't do it on purpose, and in any case, Ada tells me that Legolas will be all right with time. He finished tending to him a while ago."

Elrohir, who looked only slightly comforted, followed his brother down the hall to the Healing Wing.

_All right with time, _Elrohir thought._ He will be all right with time._

And if he told himself that enough, Elrohir was sure he would eventually believe it.

_/\/\/\/\/\/\/\_

_The Next Morning..._

Legolas woke as the sun flashed in his eyes, and he shut his eyes again. Cracking them open, he let them wander about the room. His eyes alighted upon the window where the sun was coming through. The trees were so green. All he wanted, suddenly, was to be out with them, but there was some reason, he knew, some reason that he couldn't quite grasp as to why he couldn't go out there. He sighed and a flash of sharp pain crossed his abdomen.

Wincing inwardly, he thought, _Now I remember..._

Breathing deeply, he made to sit up, but a hand rested on his shoulder, and a fair voice said softly, "Not yet, Legolas."

Looking up in surprise, he saw Lady Arwen, fair daughter of Elrond and one of his good friends at his shoulder.

"Wait here," Arwen said, smiling as Legolas Legolas did, as if to tell her that he couldn't have gone anywhere if he'd wanted to. Arwen left, and Legolas went back to staring out the window.

Hazy memories started to drift back to him. Elrond's face, Glorfindel's, Elladan's...but not Elrohir's. Where was Elrohir? Had he been hurt as well? Perhaps when Elrohir had fallen, he had gotten injured as well somehow?

Legolas jumped as the door flew open and Glorfindel barreled through it, skidding to a halt next to Legolas, looking him in the eyes, relief evident across his face.

"You're finally awake!"

Legolas grinned weakly.

"No, Glorfindel, still sleeping!"

Glorfindel laughed, and stepped aside as Elrond came walking through the door at a much more dignified pace. Stepping lightly to his patient's side, Elrond took Legolas' pulse and asked him how he felt. Aside from the dull ache and occasional flash of pain, Legolas was able to answer honestly that he felt all right.

Now through the door came Arwen leading Elrohir and Elladan, both of whom looked apprehensive and pleased. Elrohir hurried to his friend's side and knelt, lowering his head to Legolas' hand.

"Please, my friend, please Legolas, forgive me! I cannot even begin to express how sorry I am! I don't-"

Legolas shook his hand slightly to free it form Elrohir's grip and looked the other in the eyes.

"I think I remember telling you that there was nothing to forgive, but in case that was a figment of my imagination, I'll tell you again; there is nothing to forgive, it was an accident and it could easily have been you."

Elrohir smiled weakly as Legolas saw the guilt finally leave his eyes. Standing, Elrohir grinned at Legolas as Elladan breathed his own sigh of relief. Legolas frowned up at the people grouped around his bed and asked the question that Glorfindel and Erestor had placed bets upon:

"Can I get up yet?"

GLorfindel whooped and Erestor made a growling noise as he dug a hand into his pocket, pulled out a gold piece and tossed it sharply at Glorfindel. Elrond shook his head, and Elladan said quietly, "That didn't take long!"

All the people in the room shared a laugh as the sun beamed brightly, the start of a new day and a clean slate.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Done! That was a lot of fun to write, wow!

Review, please.


	5. Seeking Solace

A plotless little drabble, the best kind! It's sad. Tissue warning!

Features:

_**Thranduil: King of Mirkwood **_

_**Lauredhiel: Queen of Mirkwood (OC)**_

_**Thoronsul: Crown Prince **_

_**Legolas: If you don't know this one...**_

and other people, too.

Enjoy, and review!

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**5: Seeking Solace**

_by Caelhir_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**Year 165 Third Age of Middle Ear**_th

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Tears ran down the faces of the elves gathered beneath the moon and stars, fair faces reddened and filled with grief as they mourned the passing of one of their own.

A solemn procession moved slowly down an aisle made by the parting of the large cluster of elves. Heading the procession were two columns of eight elves, all dressed in bright warrior's uniforms, green and brown, swords sharp, but useless, for they did not stop the passing of the one who came next in the procession.

Fair as the day, tall and slender, a female elf lay cold and unknowing on a solemnly adorned stretcher, small white flowers mixed with blue periwinkles, the deceased lady's favorite kind. The lady was dressed in a simple white gown; she appeared as an angel to those she passed. The small blue flowers had been lovingly woven into her long, straight, dark hair. Bearing this solemn and sad sight were four young strong elves, the nephews of the deceased, her sister's sons. Their faces were grief-stricken at the death of their beloved aunt. Yet the saddest sight, perhaps, came next.

Behind the body came a tall male elf, his handsome, chiseled face rent and broken by grief. His eyes shone wetly with tears, and his head was bowed against the reality of what had happened. Thranduil was crumpled by his grief, nearly destroyed. At his sides, there were two young elflings the ones who kept him anchored to the world his love had left.

The taller of the two had tears tracks on his scrubbed pink face, for he was old enough to understand what had happened to his mama and what her death meant. Thoronsul would never see his nana again.

On his father's other side stepped Legolas, the younger of Mirkwood's princes. He was thought of as being too young to fully appreciate the fact that this was a funeral and it was his mother who had died, though he and his brother had been with their parents when their mother had fallen from her horse after it was spooked. Those who thought this were wrong, for Legolas knew well what it meant, and his haunted grey-green eyes spoke of the grief that should have been beyond his years. He knew this was the last time he would ever see his mother, and it tore at his young heart.

The procession ended at the front of a clearing. The body of the queen was laid upon a stone table, and Thranduil stood to one side of it, still holding the hands of his sons, though at any other time both would have pulled away declaring that they were too old for such things.

The solemn event dragged on, and the two boys began to fidget, though they knew that their mother was dead. They were still just children, after all. When Legolas finally responded to Thoronsul's pokes and prods and pinched his brother, Thranduil rapped them both smartly on the tops of their heads. Both straightened and went quiet at once.

At the end of the service, Thranduil was handed a torch and led softly to the pyre where his wife's body lay. Tears freely escaping his eyes, he lowered the torch. The rest of the elves began to move away out of respect for the grieving family. As Thranduil's torch was about to touch the pyre, a cry rang out.

"No, Ada!"

Legolas had jumped forward, panic in his eyes, but an advisor held him back. Thrnaduil swallowed and turned away from his struggling sons, touching the torch to the wood and setting it ablaze in the night.

_/\/\/\/\/\/\_

Legolas went still as the fire licked over his mother and hid her from his view. The advisor kept a wary eye on him, but turned to watch the solemn event.

Legolas turned and walked from the clearing, not seeing that Thoronsul followed behind him, though his eyes were as hollow and unseeing as Legolas' own eyes.

Legolas went directly to the last place he could remember seeing his mother happy: a little pond far away (at least for him) form the palace, a place where he and Thoronsul and Nana had come on a picnic.

Now he sat under one of the trees that ringed the pond and let his tears of sadness, anger, and frustration fall.

_They think I'm too young to understand, _he thought sadly, _but I know what it means when nana is so still and quiet! It means that there won't be any more picnics, no more stories of dwarves at bedtimes, and no more caves made out of blankets in my room!_

At the thought of all the things that he used to do with his mother, tears flowed faster down his cheeks.

_/\/\/\/\/\/\/\_

Thoronsul followed his brother as the younger elf fled from their mother's he followed his brother, Thoronsul began to realize that Legolas was not _that _much younger than he himself was, and perhaps they hadn't given Legolas enough credit for understanding what his mother's death meant.

Eventually he found Legolas sitting underneath the tree where he and Legolas and Nana had often eaten picnics, joined occasionally by Ada. The younger elf sobbed uncontrollably, confirming Thoronsul's thought that the younger elfling knew more than the other elves had thought.

As Thoronsul slipped an arm around his brother, Legolas threw himself into Thoronsul, wailing unintelligibly. Thoronsul felt his own eyes sting with tears, and before he knew it, he was crying as well.

For another hour, or perhaps more, the brothers comforted each other under the tree, and as the dawn rose, they sat up straight.

The first day without their mother was beginning.


	6. Break Away

All right folks, I just finished reading _1984_ by George Orwell, and I loved it. However, it has caused my writing to become a little dark, so if that's not what you wanted to see from these prompts, skip the next chapter (seven) and go straight to number eight when I post it.

Also note that the next two chapters will be mildly important in future stories I have planned. I'll recap when I get there, but you guys will be so prepared!

Special thanks to JaydeRayne. You are amazing!

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**6: Break Away**

_by Caelhir_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**Year 2210 Third Age of Middle Earth**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Excited?"

"Very much, yes. It's my first patrol, you know."

"I know."

Silence fell between the two elves who walked along dark halls until they reached the front doors. The taller of the two, though he was not taller by much anymore, opened the doors, revealing a grey, overcast day. Thoronsul turned to his brother and grinned.

"Ready?"

Legolas nodded nervously. Today was his very first day that he would be going on a patrol as a warrior. He had, after much agonizing, privately asked his father if he could go on a patrol with Thoronsul. As excited as he was about going on patrol, he felt that he still needed some guidance, and at least if it was his brother it would be more familiar and comforting him, as well as instructive. Thoronsul was a very good warrior, one of the best.

The two Thranduilion brothers made their way to the stables, where a few groggy-looking warriors packed their horses for the patrol. It was scheduled to be at least a month long, relatively short because three new warriors would be joining them, Legolas and two others, Linallin and Orhanion. The party would make un fourteen in total. They were supposed to go the the human city of Laketown, where they were to check on a delivery of Dorwinion, gather information about anything strange they noted, and return via the outskirts of Greenwood. A month, in total.

Legolas joined his travelling companions and prepared his horse as Thoronsul did the same, acting in a much easier manner than Legolas did. Thoronsul, Legolas realized, was probably too experienced for this simple mission to give him pause at all. He focused again as the mission leader, a well-liked elf called Sermathor, gave the mission briefing and instructions on what to do if any party members were split up from the group.

With that said, the command was given to mount, and the party of elves rode off into the deep green forest, excited, apprehensive and mostly just cheerful.

_/\/\/\/\_

_Two weeks later..._

_/\/\/\/\_

Legolas flopped down onto his sleeping roll. They had been on the trail for two weeks now, and that in itself was all right, since that was about how long training patrols lasted. But he was tired! And with the realization that there were still two weeks left to go... He sighed.

Thoronsul sat beside him, amusement glinting in his eyes at the sight of Legolas, Linallin and Orhanion lying there.

"So," he said, drawling the words, "How are you liking being a warrior so far?"

Legolas grinned tiredly. "I love it," he said.

Linallin and Orhanion groaned but agreed. Clearly, though they had been expecting excitement and battles, they were relishing leaving the palace and training grounds for so long.

Thoronsul grinned and turned away, allowing the younger elves to drop off to sleep as the sun set. They were camped just on the edge of northeastern Greenwood, a slow two weeks away from home.

Just as Thoronsul was going to lay his own head down, his ears caught noise coming from the forest.

Raising his head and looking around, he saw the rest of the company had raised their heads as well. Meeting the eyes of Sermathor, Thoronsul moved quietly to his feet and picked up his sword from where he had deposited it an hour ago. The other elves followed his lead.

Without so much as another warning, dark shapes burst from the trees, barking madly.

_Dogs, _Thoronsul thought grimly. They dogs reached the elves, and Thoronsul almost missed the sight of more shapes coming form the dark trees, upright shapes.

Men.

_/\/\/\/\_

Legolas swung at another dog, causing it to back away form him whining before it turned and fled back into the trees. Turning his attention to the men he had spotted, he saw that they were upon the elves as well, and they were armed. Legolas grimaced. This was very unlucky to have been attacked with this patrol. Three young warriors and eleven others who had not been expecting an attack.

Legolas met the sword of a man with his own, stopping the killing blow from falling upon Sermathor, whose back was turned.

Legolas had never seen a man before this trip. They fascinated him, with their short life span and strange ways. He had been eager to meet one.

Now, Legolas found his fascination disappearing to be replaced with cold anger. They attacked the elves with no reason!

Legolas shoved the man away from his and turned to another, but instinct caused him do duck.

A sword flashed above his head and he pivoted on his heels leaping to his feet, but he heard a cry and his head snapped around when he recognized Thoronsul's voice.

His elder brother stood still, looking down at a sword planted firmly in his middle.

The anger Legolas had felt earlier vaporized to be filled in by pure hatred. Spinning around, he cut through the neck of one of the men, not caring that it was the first time he had ever taken the life of another. He no longer wanted to meet any more humans. He hoped they all died terribly.

A line of fire traced across the back of his leg, and the injured limb crumpled. From the ground he caught sight of the sun rising, peeking above the horizon before his eyes travelled down and he saw the wreckage of the battle.

His companions were dead. Their faces were upturned, never to see the rising sun, and he caught a glimpse of Thoronsul, eyes closed, but his brother didn't look at him.

A sound behind him, and he wiped the tears from his eyes as a hand roughly seized his arm and yanked him up.

"Well, well, well..." said a rough human voice. "We've caught a pretty young thing! What's your name, then, eh?"

Legolas glared and spat at the man's feet. He and his companions laughed.

"Oh ho!" One man cried. "This one will be a laugh!"

Legolas struggled. He didn't want to know what the man meant, not at all. The man holding him lost his grip and Legolas made to flee but his injured leg gave out under him and he fell. The men circled around him, discussing in undertones whatever it was murderous, hateful men talked about, Legolas thought angrily. A cry went up, and the men turned.

"This one's alive too!" Another man held Thoronsul, who was gritting his teeth and hold ing his middle. Red leaked form behind his hands and he wobbled on his feet.

The leader of the men, the one who had held onto Legolas, laughed.

"Two elves! Wonderful." His malicious smile sent chills up and down Legolas' spine. Before the elf could do anyhting, the man had reached down and hit the heel of his hand sharply between Legolas' neck and shoulder, causing the elf to stiffen, then go limp as the pressure point gave and Legolas lost consciousness.

_/\/\/\/\_

_Two weeks later..._

_/\/\/\/\_

Thoronsul watched his little brother's unconscious form, silently praying the younger elf would wake soon. He had heard the men outside the room where the elves were being kept like animals, saying that they would return soon. Thoronsul wanted Legolas to be aware when that happened.

Thoronsul, for his part, had done his best to tear up his tunic and wrap up his bleeding middle. The wound was serious, but in light of this new and dangerous situation he rather let it go. He focused on gathering information about their surroundings. He guessed that it was Rohan, for the place held a horsey, barn-like smell, and beyond that, he could see outside through the cracks in the wall. Definitely Rohan.

How had they gotten to Rohan? Thoronsul knew that they elves had been drugged into a stupor, and that they had travelled far from Greenwood, but he didn't know that it had been quite _that_ far.

A movement from Legolas caused Thoronsul to roll onto his hands and knees and crawl to where his brother lay. Legolas opened his grey eyes, muddled and unclear. Then his eyes widened and he sat up suddenly.

"Thoronsul! The men! They–!"

"They captured us, but I think I've found a way to escape, it's all right." Thoronsul said quickly. "There're barrels in the corners, see?" When Legolas nodded, he continued.

"We can knock them over when the men come in here and in the confusion, we'll make a run for it."

It sounded much weaker to his ears out loud than it had in his head, Thoronsul admitted to himself. Legolas looked dubious.

"I'm not going anywhere on this leg," he muttered sadly, "and you were injured as well. Are you–?"

"I'm all right," said Thoronsul.

Before he could say more, the door opened without warning. Both elves whipped to face the door.

The leader of the men stood there, eyes glinting horribly. He smiled horribly as he advanced upon the elves, his men following him as a guard.

"Welcome to Rohan, elves!"

Thoronsul and Legolas glared.

The man's smile turned quickly to anger as he regarded the elves, who could not hide the defiance in their eyes.

"You've been planning to escape!" he roared, striding forward and slamming Legolas against the wall, which creaked and shuddered under the blow. Thoronsul made to leap forward, but was held back.

The man who held Legolas against the wall was staring at him in a mixture of wonder and anger.

"You are," he whispered, "truly intriguing. What's an elf like you doing in a place like this, hmm?"

Legolas spat at the man, hissing, _"You brought me here, stupid human!"_

Thoronsul winced. That was unwise.

The man seemed relatively calm, but his eyes snapped with fire.

"Bring him to my rooms and hold him there," the man commanded. As his guards dragged and struggling Legolas from the room, the man turned to Thoronsul.

"My name is Dalmon, and you elves _will_ learn to respect my name, I guarantee it"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

And here's where my dark imagination took over. I think the next chapter will be the darkest and hardest, both to read and write. Brace yourselves.

Review please!


	7. Innocence

Thanks to JaydeRayne for reviewing chapters 5 and 6 and to Maiden for reviewing chapter 4! A note to Jayde: Here is your update, before Friday, as well! Now you CAN'T re-diagnose me with Orcishness! (or maybe you will anyways, after this chapter...)

Now, a plea:

**I have been looking EVERYWHERE on FFnet for a fic that I read in 2008, but I can't find it at all. Here's what I remember: Legolas visits Gimli in Aglarond (or a cave of some sort). The other dwarves there hate the elf and Legolas gets locked in a room that is completely dark. Gimli doesn't know about it. Legolas goes a little crazy before he is let out. Does it sounds familiar? If it does, PLEASE tell me what it's called! I know that's not much to go on, and there are a few other fics I found that could almost fit the bill, but they're not it. **

**A few people have suggested DipDab500's "No Place Like Home" to me, and I thank you, but that's not it (I had read DipDab's story before, and remembered it because it was similar!).  
**

This chapter contains implied dark themes. There is also violence. Read with caution.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**7: Innocence**

_by Caelhir_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**Year 2210 Third Age of Middle Earth**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_Darkness._

_Pain._

_Terror._

Picked up roughly, dragged for an eternity, pain jolting him at every stair he was pulled down, voices sounded, laughing, jeering, darkness again, then light, the sound of jangling keys, the sound of an opening door, and he was tossed to the ground.

Whimpering in pain, crawling away from the men, memories and pain overwhelming him, he curled into a ball and shuddered, unable even to weep with the intrusive pain.

Vaguely the sound of the door closing reached his ears, and another voice cried out. Legolas could do nothing but shiver and wait for the next attack to be over. Again and again it had happened... tears finally leaked from his eyes at the terrible pain of the memory.

He shuddered and trembled. There was no way to have it undone to him...

_/\/\/\/\_

Thoronsul held his silence with difficulty as the men leered at him. They threw Legolas to the ground and left laughing. Thoronsul cried out as they did and fell to his knees next to Legolas.

His brother was trembling violently, face hidden behind clenched fists. Thoronsul placed a hand on his brother's shoulder only to have Legolas cry out and scramble away from him.

Thoronsul stared at his brother. What had these men done to him? What had that _beast_, that _creature_ who called himself a man done to cause his younger brother to flinch at Thoronsul's touch?

A terrible thought entered Thoronsul's mind and he shook his head angrily. Surely not _that, _these men were surely not that cruel... were they? Thoronsul sighed as he thought of men and their grudges. He had known men to take out their anger and hurt on others in that way, by dominance and forcing themselves upon others, but he would never understand it. Elrond had explained it to him once after tending to an elf who had been attacked and violated.

"_When men commit that act, they do not do it out of desire or lust. Rather, it is sprung from violence and hatred. Sometimes it is because they themselves were treated so, and wish to pass on the same pain to others. Many of these men are of the belief that they have the right to control and punish others. They are not mentally stable, Thoronsul. Remember that."_

Thoronsul felt tears in his eyes at the memory. It had seemed like just another topic of uncomfortable conversation with the lord of Imladris, but now it was a real thing. It _applied_ now, and Thoronsul desperately wished that he had become a healer instead. He might have been some help then! He turned back to Legolas.

"Legolas? My brother, can you answer me?"

Legolas turned his face away from Thoronsul, voice muffled by his hands pressed against his mouth. Thoronsul frowned as he caught the words.

"Don't look at you? Why?"

Legolas sank his head onto his knees, sobs overtaking his frame. Thoronsul crept closer, slowly, as though he was approaching a injured and unpredictable animal. In a way, he thought grimly, he was.

When Thoronsul was about an arm's length away. He stopped, not wanting to cause his brother any more distress. Legolas cracked his fingers and looked at Thoronsul.

"I'm sorry."

Thoronsul gaped at Legolas, then his face softened.

"It wasn't your fault, Legolas! You must _never_ think that!"

Legolas shuddered and drew tighter in upon himself.

For many minutes they sat thus, Legolas sitting tense and weak, and Thoronsul crouching an arm's length away, watching his brother. Finally, Legolas raised his head. Without even looking at Thoronsul, Legolas flung himself into Thoronsul, who stumbled back, but caught the other elf. He held his brother, calming the wounded elf and silently promised to destroy the ones who had done this to his brother.

_/\/\/\/\_

Legolas sobbed without restraint, the pain and violation destroying his very core as it ate away at him. It burned through him, seeming to devour his heart as the memories and pain welled up, bringing fresh tears to his eyes. Dalmon had kept his promise to Thoronsul: Legolas would _never_ forget the man's foul name.

Legolas drew what stark comfort he could from Thoronsul. Ever had his older brother been his protector, and Legolas had always idolized him. They had been very close growing up, and that had not changed with time. Not only was Thoronsul his brother, but he was also a close friend and confidant.

Legolas eventually ceased to weep, and he sat up, pulling away from Thoronsul, who watched him with his own pain. But there was anger in Thoronsul's eyes, and it burned like a fire.

"We will cause them to suffer, Legolas," Thoronsul stated grimly. "I promise."

The sons of Thranduil sat in silence, each contemplating different things.

Legolas was trying to take his mind to the times he had when he was young: picnics with his parents, playing tag-you're-it with Thoronsul and reading stories in the library with his father. These thoughts eased the terrible, aching pain.

Legolas opened his eyes and stared blankly at the slits of light coming in through the thin walls. He knew what it meant to be violated so as and elf: he was dying. He had seen it happen once before, in Imladris. Elrond didn't know he had been there, but Legolas had been curious, and had even spoken to the patient.

Young as he had been, not quite at his full height yet, but nearly there, Legolas had grasped what had happened to the elf as Elrond left, overhearing a snatch of conversation. He had then spoken to the patient, a warrior of many years who had been overpowered and outnumbered, eventually subdued and violated in the worst ways.

Legolas remembered shivering when the dying soldier had flinched away from Elrond's touch at the attempt of healing. Now Legolas understood why.

For his part, Thoronsul was thinking of ways to escape. Legolas needed a healer, and to be frank, so did he. His stab wound had not gotten better during their "visit" to Rohan.

Further thought was stopped as the door opened. Both had been so engrossed in their separate musings that neither had been alert for entering humans.

Dalmon walked through the door with four burly men. Two each went the brothers and held them fast before either could struggle.

"So," Dalmon drawled, "Enjoying your stay, gentlemen?"

Thoronsul spat on the ground, incensed. Legolas said nothing, simply refused to look up. Dalmon noticed.

"My my, pretty! Why the long face? You don't seem happy at all!"

Walking over to Legolas, much like an executioner walks to the beheading, Dalmon took hold of the elf's chin. The grey eyes of the elf were filled with dull fear. Dalmon removed his hand from Legolas' face and stood back to run his eyes over the elf instead, like a horse breeder examines a stallion.

"I believe we have damaged goods, men!"

Thoronsul hissed in anger, but it was drowned by the men's jeers and laughs. Dalmon strode forward and seized Legolas' hips, shaking the stricken elf slightly. Dalmon shouted at the room at large.

"Damaged! Damaged and broken just like my family was when those damn elves came in the night, killing our children and women, and crippling the men! Were you there, elf? Did you help them? You look like _him!_"

Thoronsul stared at Dalmon, who had shoved Legolas away form him. Only the men's hands on Legolas kept him upright. Who was the "him" Dalmon was shouting about? And what on earth was he talking about? As far as he knew, the only time elves from Greenwood had been this far south was when they took particularly long scouting trips, or missions to Lorien, Edoras and Gondor.

Dalmon was not finished.

"I watched them kill our families! They attacked, with their pointy ears and all! I watched them, elf, I watched!"

Thoronsul was half grateful that Dalmon's rage was directed elsewhere, and half enraged that that "elsewhere" was Legolas.

"...and made playthings out of the men, made toys out of us! How do you like it, elf? Do you like being beaten and broken, injured and crippled? You are _my_ plaything now, elf!"

At these words, Legolas lifted his head, and Dalmon stepped back at the rawness in the elf's eyes.

"I am no plaything," said Legolas. "Treat me as you will. I belong to none."

Thoronsul felt a flash of pride at his brother's strength.

Dalmon's eyes narrowed.

"Perhaps not. But I find I grow tired of you. Perhaps..." The man trailed off and made to move towards Thoronsul.

Legolas' eyes widened and he shouted at Dalmon.

"No!"

Dalmon gave Legolas an evil smile.

"Then what, pretty? Would you like to come with me again? Are you wanting more?"

Legolas' eyes went dull again. His whisper was nearly unheard.

"If it must be."

Thoronsul wrenched himself away form his captors and threw himself at Dalmon, tackling him to the ground before the other guards realized what was occurring.

Thoronsul was single-minded in his primeval rage. His instincts were what guided him to leap at the man who had violated and tormented his brother, his dear Leaf. Now was time for revenge.

Thoronsul reached his hands out, his vision tunneled onto Dalmon's fearful face. His hands reached out and placed themselves on either side of the man's head and twisted sharply.

A sickening _crack_ filled the air, and the four guards stopped in shock. Before anyone could say anything else, a horn sounded from outside.

The guards exchanged glances and made to run out of the room. Thoronsul stepped in front of them. they skidded to a halt, looking fearful.

"What's happening?"

The guards glanced at each other again. One spoke up.

"That horn– it sounds when the Riders of Rohan ride through here to– well, to destroy it. This isn't actually a village. It's just Dalmon's place where he takes his victims..."

The guard seemed to realize his slippery tongue and shut his mouth with an abashed look.

Thoronsul nodded, and continued. He felt very powerful, with these men cowering before him.

"And what of yourselves? Why do you follow this man?" He nudged Dalmon's body with his foot.

The men mumbled incoherent answers about families killed, promises of payment, and other things. Thoronsul shook his head, deciding they were not to blamed for one crazy mans actions.

Stepping aside, he said, "Get out."

The men nearly tripped over themselves in their haste to leave.

Sounds of battle from outside told Thoronsul that now was not a safe time to leave. Moving over to his brother, Thoronsul sat next to Legolas. Together they waited the battle out.

_/\/\/\/\_

_One week later..._

The elves had escaped form the wreckage of the storage room. Thoronsul decided they needed to head north, and off they had gone. They had made their slow and painful way in a random fashion, stopping every hour or two for rest. Legolas was having difficulty walking due to his wounded leg and the abuse he had received at the hands of the men. As for Thoronsul, his wound had worsened. He neglected to tell Legolas this, however. The younger elf's dreams were dark and haunted, and Thoronsul often woke hearing Legolas begging an unseen person for mercy.

Hearing his brother so gave Thoronsul a deep and violent urge to kill humans. They had passed within sight of two human villages already, and the two elves fell to watching the smoke tendrils rising from the establishments each time, Thoronsul's mind flying into wold rage at the very _sight_ of human dwellings.

But each time Thoronsul made to go near the villages, Legolas would place a hand on his brother's arm and guide him away. These were not the times to go attacking anyone. Neither of them was in suitable condition to even be walking, in reality.

Thoronsul now raised his head, surveying the landscape critically.

"I think we're near Lorien," he said hesitantly. "It is starting to seem familiar to my eyes."

Legolas said nothing. He hadn't spoken since his defence of himself against Dalmon in Rohan. Thoronsul sighed and they continued in silence.

Several hours later, they ran across a Lorien border guard as they entered under the mallorn tress. Thoronsul was hailed cheerfully by his friend Rumil and his brother Orophin. Their brother Haldir was less cheerful. The cheeky and fun-loving Thranduilion brothers had never really gotten along very well with the serious elf who was a stickler for rules.

However, now was no the time to be nursing old wounds. It was the recent ones that needed attention now, and hence, the Lorien elves led the princes of Greenwood to one of the outposts of Lorien. There they would be guaranteed rest, food and safety.

The Lorien elves pressed, but Legolas would not speak and Thoronsul would say nothing pertaining to their whereabouts of the past week.

In no time, the brothers were presented to the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, and a group of Lorien elves were given permission to escort the weary princes home.

Under the gaze of the kind Galadriel, Legolas felt the horror of situation being probed at, and he snapped his eyes away, glaring at the trees until she looked away. Those memories belonged to him along. They were not for everyone to view!

In short order, the Greenwood princes were returned to their father, who was overjoyed to see them. They had been expected back two days ago, and news of the slaughter of their party had reached the ears of the Greenwood elves via Sermathor and two others who had survived the attack.

Thoronsul related the events of their capture to their father in front of the court of advisors. He left out Legolas' violation, of course, and his own actions against Dalmon. Whatever anyone else said, at the time, it was justified.

Legolas never spoke to anyone but Thoronsul regarding what had happened in that place. When he did speak, i twas as though something held him back so that he could not truly be free from the memories. But when Legolas was woken in the night by the nightmares and memories, it was Thoronsul who sat with him, singing or reading, and sometimes it was simply the presence of someone familiar that comforted Legolas.

That experience they shared had changed both elves. Thoronsul held a flashing hatred of humans, violent and bright, but Legolas also held hatred in his heart. Legolas' hatred was slow-burning where Thoronsul's was quick and furious, running in him and festering in his heart. Thoronsul wondered at this, at Legolas' seeming calmness, save for when traders from Laketown visited. At those occasions, Legolas disappeared, and not even Thoronsul could find the elusive prince.

Even Mithrandir the Maia, who sometimes visited Greenwood, was spurned by the younger of the princes, for his likeness to men was too great for Legolas' preference. The wizard had told Thranduil that Legolas would have a future that was involved with men, but when Thranduil told Legolas of this prediction, Legolas scoffed at it. He declared that no business of his would ever lead him to where there were men.

Yet Fate is a difficult thing to sway when she is set in her course, and only time would tell if Legolas' adamant refusal of contact with men would be swayed.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

That was intense, both to write and re-read. I don't think I'll make another chapter/another story like that again. I think it goes with where I have future stories going, however. Remember me saying something about how Legolas and Aragorn meet, at the end of _Long, Long Journey_? Yeah, this will have something to do with that. ;P If you add _100 Themes_ onto you favorites or alerts, leave a review if you can!


	8. Heaven

A companion to No. 5: Seeking Solace.

I'll put my plea on this chapter as well:

**I have been looking EVERYWHERE on FFnet for a fic that I read in 2008, but I can't find it at all. Here's what I remember: Legolas visits Gimli in Aglarond (or a cave of some sort). The other dwarves there hate the elf and Legolas gets locked in a room that is completely dark. Gimli doesn't know about it. Legolas goes a little crazy before he is let out. Does it sounds familiar? If it does, PLEASE tell me what it's called! I know that's not much to go on, and there are a few other fics I found that could almost fit the bill, but they're not it.**

**A few people have suggested DipDab500's "No Place Like Home" to me, and I thank you, but that's **_**not **_**it, unfortunately. (I have read DipDab's story before, and enjoyed it and remembered it **_**because**_** it was similar!) Any hints or ideas?**

This chapter is based off of a conversation I remember having with my twin brother when we all were very young.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**8: Heaven**

_by Caelhir_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_**Year 165 Third Age of Middle Earth**_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Thranduil walked the hallway of his palace, heart aching and mind reeling.

It was already the third week after the burial of his beloved wife Lauredhiel, yet his heart and soul still mourned and grieved for the empty void in him that her death had left in him. If her death had been tragic, her burial was worse. He had scarcely been able to hold himself together as he had laid the torch on her pyre, and at the thought of it, he flinched.

His poor sons' reactions had been no better, Thrnaduil thought miserably as he continued on his way. Thoronsul had borne it reasonably well for one so young, yet it was his younger son whom Thranduil was worried about now.

Legolas had bolted away from the funeral as Thrnaduil had set the pyre alight, and it was all the king had been able to not to dart after him, hold him and comfort his young son. Thranduil's advisors had told him it was all right to bring Legolas to the funeral since he was "too young to understand such things." But Thranduil had heard the desperation in the young child's voice. Legolas had known exactly what was happening.

Thranduil had found Legolas staring sightlessly out over a lake that he and Thoronsul and Lauredhiel had often been to on picnics. Thranduil had occasionally been able to slip away from councils and meeting to join them.

Legolas' eyes were dry, and his face was an expression of utter desolation. The younger elf had said nothing, but his eyes had begged his father for comfort. Thranduil wrapped his arms about his sons, for Thoronsul had joined them as well, and the three remaining royals of Greenwood wept for their lost mother and wife.

Now, Thrnaduil made his way to Legolas' room, where he suspected that both of his sons were. They had grown closer since Lauredhiel's passing, spending more time together. Thranduil was comforted that his sons found solace with each other.

Reaching Legolas' door, Thranduil paused before knocking. Leaning his head closer to the door which was slightly ajar, he listened and heard his sons speaking to each other.

"But Thoron," Legolas was saying, "that's not how Nana used to do it!"

Thranduil heard Thoronsul sigh in exasperation and sadness.

"I know, Leaf," he replied, adopting his favorite nickname for Legolas, "but you know Nana's not here anymore."

There was silence for another few seconds, and Thrnaduil decided it was time to interrupt the boys. Walking into the room, Thrnaduil saw his sons sitting together on

Legolas' bed. Thoronsul was reading a book, his eyes skimming across the page, and Legolas sat at his brother's feet, examining his toes carefully. Both boys looked up, and with similar shouts of, "Ada!" they flew off the bed and into their father's arms.

Thranduil cherished these moments he had with his sons, for he knew they were becoming few and far between. Both were growing older, and he knew that Thoronsul would reach his first warrior trials soon. The elder of Thranduil's sons would cease to need him anymore, Thranduil thought sadly.

Legolas' reserved silence told the elven king that something still troubled the younger elf. Looking into his sons eyes, Thranduil quietly asked Legolas what bothered him.

Legolas hesitate before responding.

"If– if Nana is no longer here with us, where is she? She didn't go to the Undying Lands, and she isn't _here_ anymore, Ada. Where is Nana that I can't go with her?"

His child's heart-breakingly innocent question broke away at the strong face that Thranduil presented to his sons every day. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he silently gathered his sons and herded them to the gallery, where many paintings, including Thranduil's favorite hung. His favorite painting was one of himself, Lauredhiel, Thoronsul, and Legolas when the children had been some years younger. Legolas had a pouty, impudent expression. Thranduil well remembered his and Lauredhiel's, as well as the desperate painter's, pleas for the child to smile. But it was not this picture to which Thranduil brought his sons.

Far down the way, Thranduil halted in front of a picture of himself and _his_ parents. Staring at it, he realized just how much Thoronsul had turned out looking like him. Then he looked at Thoronsul and Legolas and spoke.

"Do you know who these people are?"

Thoronsul shook his head, but pointing at the young Thranduil, Legolas said, "That looks like Thoron, Ada."

Thranduil smiled.

"Indeed it does. That is me, my sons."

The younger elves gaped. Thranduil chuckled before continuing.

"This is me and my father and mother. They never knew you, because they died in a terrible fight."

The children looked up as their father's voice wavered, and Thranduil continued.

"My mother died when I was a little younger than you, Legolas. I asked my father the same thing that you asked Thoronsul. I wanted to know where my mother was.

My father, Oropher, was a great king and a great warrior. I will tell you what he told me, for I think he had a very kind and gentle way of telling me..."

_/\/\/\/\/\_

"_But where is she, Ada?"_

_Thranduil's plea came to Oropher, who was up to his ears in paperwork. He had fallen behind after the death of his wife, and was only now catching up. His son's plea, however, pulled him out of his work-induced haze._

_Running a hand through his golden hair, the elven king knelt next to his son, who sat near the hearth. Tears ran down the child's face. _

_Wiping them away, Oropher spoke softly to his son._

"_Do you remember when Väensol was hurt very badly a few weeks ago?" When Thranduil nodded, Oropher continued._

"_Do you remember when he left to go on a very long voyage across the sea? Remember that I told you he was going to a place where he wouldn't be hurt any more, and he would be happy and live with his family?" At the child's nod, Oropher wrapped an arm around his son and went on._

"_Well, Nana can't go on that voyage, because she's left her body here. She has gone to a place called Mandos, the Halls of Mandos. While she's there, she will be prepared to go to that heaven0like place I told you about before, Valinor. After the ones in Mandos decide she is ready, they will send her there."_

"_But, "Thranduil asked quietly, "what is heaven, and why does Nana have to go there? Can I go there and bring her back, Ada?"_

"_Heaven is the place where people go to watch over us. Life is like a test, and when you get a good enough mark, you pass the test, and you die and are honored by being able to help the ones you love by silently supporting them in their own test."_

_Oropher sighed, and placed a kiss on his sons head._

"_Nana has to go there because she passed the test, ion nin. You can't go there to get her because she will be much happier there. She is with her Ada and Nana, and your brother."_

_At the mention of Thranduil's late brother, the elfling looked up at his father._

"_Throndur is there too? Will he meet Nana when she gets there?"_

"_Yes, ion-nin, and they will be very happy. And," the king continued, "you cant go the heaven yet because I still need you here!"_

_Oropher hugged his son, who returned the embrace, whispering,_

"_I love you, Ada. I'm glad Nana is happy now. She was so sad here before."_

"_I love you too, my son."_

_/\/\/\/\/\/\_

Thranduil hugged his sons just as his own father had consoled him, and together, the three elven royals looked at the picture of their respective wife and mother.

Yes, Thranduil thought, as he led his sons away. Lauredhiel would be happy now, now that her sons knew she was safe.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

**I don't want to offend anyone who doesn't believe in heaven. I don't mean it as a Christian heaven (though I am a Christian!), just as a haven and safe place for the elves who passed form Middle Earth. And it's also the best way to explain something so complicated to two little elflings!**


	9. Drive

Hey, folks! Hope you're all well, and her's part 9 of the Challenge ;P Enjoy. It's a follow-up to #6 and #7.

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**9: Drive**

_by Caelhir_

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**Year 2210 Third Age of Middle Earth**

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Thranduil blocked Glorfindel's blade and delivered an attack of his own, breaking through the Imladrin warrior's well-guarded defence to tap Glorfindel sharply on the head with the flat of the wooden practice sword. Glorfindel blew air through his mouth heavily and rolled his eyes.

"Another point for me, O great Warrior of Imladris," said Thranduil mockingly.

"Very well, O King of Twigs," responded Glorfindel, "but only because I am yet weary from my travels!"

Thranduil laughed merrily.

"What's this? The great and mighty Glorfindel, about whom I have heard only obsessive worshipful ramblings and glorious praises, from my sons, no less, is making up excuses?"

Glorfindel sighed, wiping his brow. He was experienced, none could doubt that, but Thranduil was simply more so. As Greenwood,and Arda as a whole, fell into darker shadow, the elves of Greenwood continued to produce such talented warriors that it had led outsiders to wonder what exactly was in the water in Greenwood.

'Probably some sort of poison,' thought Glorfindel sarcastically.

Thranduil had walked over to the edge of the clearing where the two elves had deposited their belongings. Picking up his tunic, he tossed Glorfindel's to its owner and picked up his cloak and sword.

Glorfindel gathered his own cloak and sword, and together, the two tall elves began to walk back to the palace of Greenwood.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Thranduil spoke abruptly.

"I'll be sending my sons back to Imladris with you when you depart."

Glorfindel started and looked askance at Thranduil.

"Why?" He inquired. "Is it a diplomatic affair, or perhaps a delivery of Dorwinion?"

He said this last with a slight smirk, but it faded as Thranduil's eyes grew sad.

"Nay," said he, "it is Legolas' welfare that prompts this action." While Thranduil seemed to choke on his words, Glorfindel's thought went to his friend Legolas. He knew that Legolas and his elder brother Thoronsul had been part of a party waylaid and mostly slaughtered by a band of human brigands, but beyond what he had heard from Elrond, Glorfindel didn't know much.

Elrond had received a letter from Thranduil, and had shared the grim news with Glorfindel and Erestor. The lord of Rivendell had then told Glorfindel to head for Greenwood at the first light, equipped with a letter for Thranduil and instructions that the elven King would fill him in once he arrived.

Now that Glorfindel was here, he could only guess at what ailed the princes of Greenwood. Before he could say a word, Thranduil began to speak.

"You should know that one week ago, my sons returned from a patrol."

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. From what Elrond had told him, it had been more than a simple patrol, but he let Thranduil continue without comment.

"Thoronsul and Legolas were separated from their patrol. Well," the king amended, "It can hardly be called their fault, for there was a group of men, Sermathor tells me, brigands who attacked the patrol for reasons unbeknownst to him. He and two others returned safely, though wounded and passed on the news of the attack. When I went with another patrol to– to collect the dead, we did not find Thoronsul or Legolas there. We assumed capture. We were correct.

"Thoronsul returned two weeks later, Legolas hanging on his shoulder. Thoronsul had sustained a terrible injury, a sword to his middle but he disregarded it, telling us to look after his brother."

"But what of Thoronsul? Is he all right?" Glorfindel broke in.

"Oh yes," Thranduil said distantly. His eyes were heavy and clouded. "Thoronsul has been recovering well. It is not for his sake that I send my sons with you."

Glorfindel had a thousand questions, but allowed Thranduil his silence.

"Glorfindel, it is Legolas I am worried for. I asked Elrond to send you because I know that Legolas counts you among his closest friends, and trusts you above most others. I find it difficult to accept that it is my task to tell you of this, but I must, if you are to take him to Elrond."

As the story came out piece by piece, Glorfindel felt terrible revulsion mixed with pity and fear for the younger elf's health. He knew what happened to elves who were forced into that act. They died, plain and simple.

When Thrnaduil finished the heart-breaking story, Glorfindel and the king walked along in silence, both lost in their respective thoughts.

After a few more minutes, the Imladrin warrior noticed that they were not heading back to the palace as Glorfindel had originally assumed. When he asked about it, Thrnaduil said simply,

"We are going to Legolas. He spends his time here."

They stepped around a tree and caught sight of the prince, firing arrow after arrow into a vaguely person-sized target. Arrow after arrow found its way into the chest, head and stomach of the board. Legolas' head was turned away from the two spectators, but when he shifted to adjust his quiver, the look on his face caused Glorfindel to inhale sharply.

The elf's face was twisted in unrecognizable hatred and rage. His eyes shone with malice as he fired his bow again, arrows thunking into the target. The target's shape was no mistake, Glorfindel realized; it was _meant_ to be man-shaped.

Thranduil was about to call to Legolas when a voice spoke before them.

"Hitting that board won't make him any more dead, you know."

Craning their necks, Thrnaduil and Glorfindel caught sight of Thoronsul leaning against his own target, also man-shaped. His eyes held anger as well, and many nicks and holes in his target pointed towards his own archery practice.

Legolas turned to his brother and shook his head, eyes fixed on the target. He said nothing. Glorfindel felt that Legolas' silence was not unexpected by Thoronsul and Thranduil, for neither seemed surprised. Turning to Thranduil, Glorfindel asked quietly if this was true. The king nodded, eyes riveted on his sons.

Thoronsul had walked toward his brother, hands raised at his sides, assuming a neutral stance. Glorfindel thought bizarrely that it was as though Thoronsul approached a mistreated horse, wary and cautious as he was acting.

Once Thoronsul had gotten closer to his brother, he dropped his hands and drew his brother into an embrace. Legolas sighed, the rage leaving his face, but his eyes still sparkled with some unknown emotion.

Thranduil spoke softly.

"He is the only one Legolas will allow to be that close to him."

Glorfindel nodded as Thranduil stepped out of the shadow of the trees, announcing his presence with a call to his sons.

Thoronsul and Legolas both looked around. Glorfindel noted the trace of uneasiness in Legolas' demeanor. He noted this with sadness as Thranduil began to speak to his sons in the Silvan dialect, an old language of which none beyond Greenwood had knowledge. The speech was unintelligible to Glorfindel.

Thoronsul began to speak as well, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder. Abruptly switching back to the grey tongue, Thranduil told his sons that Glorfindel was taking them to Rivendell and that was the end of it. Thoronsul continued to argue in their own language, clearly not desiring to let the matter die.

"We have spoken about this, my sons, and we agreed that it would be so!" Thranduil's patience was clearly waning.

"We did," Thoronsul said sharply, "But so soon! We have only barely been back home!"

Thranduil was about to speak when Legolas spoke for the first time in about a month.

"I have no wish to travel to the haven of Elrond _Half-Elven. _I would prefer to stay here, amongst _my kind, _father."

Glorfindel was stunned. The first things out of the prince's mouth had been slurs against Elrond for the elven lord's human heritage? He turned to Thranduil to demand reprimand, but the look on the king's face stopped him short.

Thranduil regard his son with a look of determined pity.

"Legolas, I wish it not to be so as well, believe me. IIf it was up to me, I would have you stay here until the end of time, but I need you to heal, and being here can't provide that for you."

"So sending me to some summer-home for humans will 'heal me,' Ada?" Legolas snapped, making reference to the fact that Elrond sometimes provided shelter for humans. "How will that make anything better?"

Thranduil turned to Glorfindel.

"Please excuse us." Turning to his sons, they lapsed back into their Silvan speech.

Glorfindel sighed. The trip home was going to be very long.

_/\/\/\/\_

"Legolas, I want you to go to Rivendell, not because I think there's anything wrong with you, but because I want you to be free of burdens that cause you stress!"

"I feel only safety here, Father! This is my home, or have you forgotten?"

"Legolas! There is no need for that!"

"Quiet, Thoronsul, you don't even _have _to go to Elrond's magically protected hidey-hole!"

Thranduil leaned back, understanding coming into his eyes. "So that's what this is about? Elrond's home is protected by magic? Why does that bother you, son?"

Legolas seemed to struggle for a moment before bursting out, "He doesn't have to protect his home! There is no threat to his people besides the occasional thunderstorm! There are no wild men or orcs or wargs to invade his home. Ada, there is no darkness in Rivendell. It is as Lorien: protected from all harm. Why is ours the only realm not protected by a Ring? Three elven rings, three elven realms, but it is not divided to! The _high and great_ Mithrandir has the third ring, and why? Are those halflings in danger? And what of our Greenwood? Where is our enchanted protective ring? No, it has fallen to the _Noldor_ to to protect their own first!" And from what? Their hairy little toes? Ale? Their pipes?" Legolas seemed to be unleashing pent up frustration in one bout of anger. For not having spoken in nearly a monthHis eyes flashed angrily and he turned abruptly to stride away from his father and brother. Thranduil made to go after him, but Thoronsul put a hand on his father's arm.

"Ada, let him be."

"Thoronsul, he is being ridiculous!"

"Yet you must admit he has a point. I imagine that this whole situation will do nothing for

his attitude about this."

"Which is what?"

Thoronsul sighed heavily before continuing. "He has spoken to me about this before, and it is just as he said. I admit feeling this way myself. Three Elven Rings, three Elven Realms, yet ours is the one that has been falling to Shadow and threat in these darkening times. Why? Why do Elrond and Galadriel keep their people safe with their jewels while you must struggle to even keep your warriors from dying every day?"

Thranduil blinked. It was not the first time the thought had entered his mind, but to hear it verbalized twice, once through anger and the other through plain inquiry, that was something Thranduil had never really considered before. Three rings, three realms. He had never asked his father why Oropher didn't have a ring. It had never occurred to him. They had claimed and settled Greenwood the Great without the aid of "wizard's magic," and that had made Oropher terribly proud, and Legolas seemed to be turning out the same way: not desirous of any help, but simply "above" those who did use the aid of the rings. Thoronsul spoke again.

"I believe it will not be difficult for you to send Leaf to Imladris, you know."

Thranduil looked at his son with mild incredulity. Thoronsul chuckled.

"Tell him that Elrohir and Elladan will be there. I think he forgets them when he generalized Rivendell into 'a summer home for humans.'"

Thranduil set off into the woods to find Legolas.

_My son Legolas,_ Thrnaduil thought with slight humor, _every bit as stubborn and pigheaded as his father and my father before me!_

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Two hours of conversation later, which ended with father and sons embracing tightly, the first time since Legolas and Thoronsul had returned home. Thranduil and Legolas had returned from the woods to the palace, where a very confused Glorfindel and a very amused Thoronsul stood waiting. Legolas darted inside to pack a few things, and Thranduil joined Glorfindel and Thoronsul to wait.

"Thranduil," said Glorfindel. "What on earth is gong on around here?"

Thranduil realized that the Imladrin had not been told of Legolas' agreement to go to Rivendell. After filling him in, the three fell to idle chatter while awaiting the afore-mentioned prince.

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Legolas strode around his room. His anger was not yet fully cooled, only put at bay. He would have to wait to extract his revenge upon humans for a later date.

At the memory of his encounter with Dalmon, anger traced down his spine. The man was dead, but what had been done could not be undone. Legolas' eyes flashed as he threw some things into a pack.

Rivendell.

He was not pleased about this, but if it meant that he could return to his warrior's duties without anyone asking if he was all right, then he accepted this 'sentence.' The thing about going to Elrond's would be that when he returned, all would assume he'd been healed. It would be very easy.

Legolas shouldered his pack and walked from his room, grabbing his sword and bow on the way out. Those two things seemed to anchor him to reality, calming him. Besides, Elrohir and Elladan would be there, and how could he resist the chance to best them at another archery contest?

Laughing to himself, Legolas went to meet his father and brother outside.

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Wow. Sorry if that made little to no sense, and that I inject so much of my feelings about "healing places." There's been a lot going on on my end these few weeks... Yikes, I'll try to get the next one a little better.

The next one... *evil cackle* it's VERY Lego-angst-y!


	10. Breathe Again

**#10: Breathe Again**

_by Caelhir_

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_**Year 1620 Third Age of Middle Earth**_

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Legolas flew through the air, colors dancing around him as the sun flashed off of the water. With a great _splash_, his form slipped into the water and it closed over his feet. The cold shocked him but he smiled under the water at the sight of the sun's rays slanted above him. He kicked his feet and his head broke the surface.

"Six," came a voice from the bank.

Legolas pulled himself out of the water.

"What?" came another familiar voice. "That was _at least_ worth a nine!"

Legolas laughed as the twins argued about the rating of his dive. He laid back on the grass, letting the sun soak into his skin, rejoicing in the simple happiness he felt.

Patrols in Greenwood had been getting longer and more dangerous. It had been more than fifteen years since his last visit to Imladris, and he had cashed in his time off to take a week-long excursion to Elrond's house, safely nestled in the green valley of Imladris. The last time he had been here, he and Elrohir had met with unpleasant circumstances. The still-fading scar on his stomach attested to that.

Sudden silence around him caused him to crack open his eyes just in time to see a large wave of water speeding at him. He shouted and tried to roll out of the way, but the water caught him nonetheless.

Elrohir and Elladan, standing by the edge of the water, were laughing uproariously.

"The look– on your face!" Elrohir choked around his laughter. "It was– absolutely priceless!"

Elladan, for his part, could barely stand for laughing and snorting with mirth. Legolas hopped to his feet, and ran at the twins. Elrohir and Elladan made to run away, but ended up smacking straight into each other and toppling into the lake. Now it was Legolas' turn to double over laughing as the twins spluttered and began to shout at each other. These were the moments that he lived for, the joy of sharing happiness with friends, being at peace, being _safe._

With a shout of laughter, he leapt into the lake at them, sending up a huge splash of water, dousing the already-wet elves in even more icy water. It was late April, so the water from the mountains wasn't yet fully warmed as it would be in June or July.

The three elves had been swimming for a while when Elrohir challenge Elladan and Legolas to another diving contest. Both accepted eagerly, and the three made their way to the top of the rocky ledge they had been leaping off of before.

Elrohir volunteered to go first, performing a perfect swan dive into the lake. Elladan followed with an excellent dive as well, and last, Legolas pulled off a jack knife dive, snapping his legs and arms out at the last second to enter the water like an arrow. The three conferred for a moment and decided to run the contest again, as they had all done well. Again and again, they dived and ran to the ledge again. The morning turned into the afternoon, and the three took a break for lunch.

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After lunch, the three resumed their contest, determined to elect a winner. Finally, Elrohir was knocked out of the running due to an unstable entrance on a particularly difficult dive. Laughing, he agreed to judge as he sat on the side of the lake in the sun.

Legolas and Elladan dove again and agin. Finally, Elladan performed a truly complicated dive, consisting of a flip and two twists before entering the water backwards. Legolas let out a gusty sigh, wondering how on earth he was supposed to top that.

A memory came to him from a long time ago. He and Thoronsul had tagged along with their older cousins to a swimming hole. The cousins, brothers named Maegthor and Firieth, had told Legolas and Thoronsul not to fall in the water, because they and their friends were having a diving contest. The two young elflings had watched with wide eyes as the older warriors had twisted and flipped like fish into the water. Legolas recalled a particular dive he had seen Maegthor perform, a series of twists and spins. Legolas decided that would be the winning dive of his present day contest, for it had won the contest he had watched all those years ago.

Visualizing the dive as he knew it, he crouched, and leapt into the air.

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Elladan and Elrohir both laughed as Legolas spun through the air, twisting like a top, spinning and whirling into the water, leaving a small dancing patch of water in his wake as he vanished into the blue water.

Elrohir whistled.

"Wow. I think that beats your dive, Elladan!"

Elladan tried to look indignant, but agreed. "It was _very_ good. Perhaps a seven, this time?"

Elrohir and Elladan laughed and turned back to the water expecting to see Legolas emerging. But there was no sign of the prince at the water's edge.

Elrohir glanced at Elladan, smirking. "How long can he possibly hold his breath for, do you think?"

Elladan grinned as well.

"We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?"

_/\/\/\/\_

Legolas wasn't holding his breath under the water.

Upon the entrance from his dive, he had come into the water at a slightly different place than he had already. He had flashed into the water and had shot straight to the bottom.

On the way down, however, he had felt his head thunk heavily into one of the rocks jutting out from the side of the pool. His limbs no longer responded to his prompts, and his mind was panicking, yet he could not move, or breathe. The light slanted down upon him, creating a beautiful and terrible prison. He was trapped beneath the water, unable to move or breath, and all was beginning to go dark around the edges of his sight.

He tied to move, to swim, or make some air bubbles to let Elrohir and Elladan know where he was, but couldn't. He wold be here forever, at the bottom of the pool. His eyes strained to see the surface, but nothing came to him.

Peacefully, all went dark.

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Elladan frowned.

"Do you think he's still joking with us?"

Elrohir frowned as well.

"Maybe, but let's just..."

He stood and walked to the edge of the pool. When he got there, he shouted for Elladan to follow him, then jumped into the water. Elladan raced over and stood at the edge, heart thumping painfully. He could vaguely see his brother's shape travelling deeper, deeper to where he could see a light patch.

_Legolas._

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Elrohir stroked powerfully to where he could see Legolas' still form. A haze of red hung about his friend, leaking from a cut on the other's temple. Legolas' face was eerily pale under the water, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. No bubbles came form the prince's mouth. Elrohir flew into action.

Elrohir wrapped his arms about Legolas' chest and pushed off with his feet against the side of the pool, praying desperately that he wasn't too late.

He broke the surface with his head and struggled over to where Elladan waited, looking fearful. Dragging Legolas' deadweight through the water was much more difficult than he would have thought.

He pushed Legolas at Elladan, who grabbed the prone elf and pulled him higher on the bank. Elrohir clambered out of the water and over to where Elladan was checking Legolas' pulse and breathing.

"Anyhting?" asked Elrohir fearfully.

Elladan shook his head, and Elrohir lowered his head, despair clouding his sight. Elladan shook his brother's shoulder.

"Breathe for him."

Elrohir looked up. "What?"

"Breathe! Remember when that elfling fell in the river in Greenwood those years ago, and Ada brought him back? He had no pulse and wasn't breathing, but Ada had a warrior breath while he pressed on the child's chest, and the elfling was all right! Breathe for him now."

Elrohir complied, lowered his mouth to Legolas' face, hesitating only for a moment, glancing at his brother. Elladan rolled his eyes.

"It's not a kiss; you're saving his life!"

Elrohir thought no more on his and breathed for his friend as Elladan began to compress Legolas' chest rapidly, prompting the prone elf's heart to beat on it's own. After a minute or two, Elladan told Elrohir to stop and leaned his head to Legolas' mouth, felling for breath and pulse.

Smiling at Elrohir, the brothers leaned back, relief washing over their faces. It had been perhaps five minutes since Elrohir had pulled Legolas out of the water, but five tense minutes had put enough stress on the twins to last them a life time.

Legolas appeared to be slowly coming around. He groggily raised his head from the ground, mouth twisting into a frown as he furrowed his brow.

"Did I win the contest?"

Elrohir and Elladan froze in shock, then burst into laughter. Trust Legolas to drown himself and be resuscitated, and the first question he asked was if he'd won or not!

Elladan and Elrohir howled with laughter as their friend sat up slowly, memories of being underwater slowly filtering through his mind. The twins quieted down and regarded their friend carefully.

Elladan asked Legolas if, beyond feeling like a drowned rat, did he feel all right? Elrohir, for his part, had lapsed into quiet contemplation.

It seemed that every time Legolas was here in Imladris, he was injured, and every time it was because Elrohir himself had some part to play in it. Guilt assailed him and he lowered his eyes, even though he knew that save calling off the contest, he couldn't have done anything to help Legolas.

Legolas rose to his feet and regarded the other two elves at his feet. He raised an eyebrow.

"Well?"

Elladan and Elrohir glanced at each other, then back at Legolas.

"Well what?" Elladan said confusedly.

Legolas sighed.

"Did I win?"

Elrohir and Elladan grinned and rose to their feet as well.

"Yes," said ELrohir, "I think you did. That dive was amazing, bu tI think points will be deducted for the terrible ending!"

Laughing, the three set off under the heat of the afternoon sun. On the way, Legolas brought up a point that the twin;s father would be sure to make.

"Elladan, Elrohir?"

What, Leafling?" responded Elladan, using the permanent nickname Legolas had been given.

"NO more diving contests for a while, all right?"

Elrohir smirked.

"I agree!"

Elladan seconded this statement, saying, "We'll stick to drinking Glorfindel under the table, then, shall we?"

"You Noldor can never beat a Sinda in a drinking competition!" Legolas cried joyfully, opening a new challenge to the Peredhel brothers.

Shouting at each other, the three elves raced back to the house of Elrond to prove who was that champion of this endeavor.

Later, upon hearing their brush with death, Elrond sighed heavily.

"Glorfindel," he asked of the golden haired warrior, "Will they ever learn?"

Glorfindel chuckled.

"My lord, do you really want to know?"

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Thanks for reading and reviewing, folks!

*sparkle-heart to JaydeRayne*


	11. Memory

Hey folks! I hope you didn't miss the update of _Someone Said Goodbye,_ but if you did, well... it's updated! *shameless plug*

Also, this episode is _riddled_ with OC's! Character guide will be at the end, but don't worry; if they crop up anywhere else, I'll explain them there!

Note: Slight spoilers for _Long, Long Journey. _And there is sadness.

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**11. Memory**

_by Caelhir_

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_**Year 2064 Third Age of Middle Earth**_

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Thranduil walked through the gallery where the paintings of generations before him hung. The paintings and portraits of past nobles and kings, battles and peaceful sights, all hung next to each other, lining the walls of the dark hallway. Thranduil paused at the second one. It depicted a sight that was familiar to his heart.

He himself stood behind a dark-haired elven woman, who sat next to a standing elf boy. His serious blue eyes gazed out at Thranduil as he looked upon his son's smiling face. Thranduil sighed as he thought of how little Thoronsul smiled anymore.

The shadow in Mirkwood, for it had been renamed, was growing more and more, and now that Legolas had left for Elrond's haven to report the creature Gollum's escape, Thoronsul was overwhelmed by his duties, both as commander and prince. Thranduil looked back at the picture.

His beautiful, late wife Lauredhiel, was holding on her lap another small elfling boy. The boy was staring mutinously at the viewer. Thranduil remembered well the one day on which Legolas refused to smile. The painter had nearly been in tears as he had coaxed and prodded the boy to grin even just a little bit, but Legolas had steadfastly refused. Thranduil and Lauredhiel had pleaded with their youngest son to smile, but the child had refused.

Why?

All because Legolas hadn't wanted to wear his formal outfit. He had changed himself out of it twice and into his play clothes before his father had threatened him with no play time for a month if he didn't wear them. Legolas had simply gone to play in his formal clothes. Unfortunately, Legolas' play time included mud puddles, and Lauredhiel had returned inside with Legolas, looking exasperated. Legolas had a furious look on his face, and had thus refused to smile for the desperate painter, not to mention his parents.

Thranduil chuckled as he moved along the line of paintings. He passed a picture of himself without so much as a second look, and lingered on a picture of his beloved wife before walking directly to another picture, one that had been occupying much of his thoughts recently.

The painting depicted six people. One was Thranduil, the other Lauredhiel, who sat in a chair in the center of the painting smiling benignly. Legolas stood on her right side, looking up at her with a mirror image of her own grey-green eyes. He was the size of perhaps a six year old human, but Thranduil had forgotten his exact age at that time. Thoronsul stood to his mother's left, not quite as tall as his mother's shoulder when she sat holding his younger brother. Thoronsul's ice-blue eyes were looking at Legolas with brotherly affection. Yet it was the fifth and sixth people in the picture who drew Thranduil's attention.

A taller elf stood by his own side, nearly a full-grown adult. His proud blue-green eyes looked out at the viewer with something akin to arrogance. The elf's light blond hair fell about his shoulders and his strong jaw and lifted brows gave him a stern yet friendly appearance. A young elf woman standing to this elf's right side drew Thranduil's eyes as well. She was quite beautiful, her dark hair and green eyes giving her an ethereal quality. She looked to be the same age than the first elf he had regarded, though she was not as tall as the other. She was nearly a mirror image of Lauredhiel, just as the first elf was nearly a perfect reflection of Thranduil. He gazed at the picture for another moment before turning to look at the picture that hung across from it.

The same elves were depicted, yet now they was alone, and the painting was of their heads and torsos only. Thranduil looked with sadness at the last picture that had ever been done of his eldest son, Talagan, and his daughter Laurinar. Ever had Talagan been peaceful, though a skilled fighter. Despite his somewhat forbidding appearance, he had harbored a great love of music and the arts, and had always been the first to volunteer a piece for festivals and feasts. His sister Laurinar sat next to him, head resting on his shoulder. She had been the warrior of the twins, Thranduil thought. Laurinar had always volunteered for patrols and companies more readily than her twin, Talagan. Yet she had also held a secret love for acting, and had been pulled into a performance at last notice when an actor had broken her leg unexpectedly. Laurinar had shone like a star in her role as the wolf queen. The play had been a re0enactment of a legend told by the wood-elves, one that involved an elven king hunting a wolf-queen only to find that the wolf queen was actually a cursed female elf. Thranduil and Lauredhiel had been so proud of their daughter on that day.

It had been those patrols that Laurinar had enjoyed so much that had led to the death of the twins, Thranduil thought darkly, sliding to the ground across from the painting of the entire family, before its sundering. His beautiful daughter had volunteered for a long patrol, at least two months away. The patrols had plans to travel into the world of men to discover more about the Second-born.

It had been a plan doomed to failure, Thranduil thought. News had flown back to the Wood elves barely two weeks after their departure that the eighteen elves who had left, including Laurinar, had found their deaths in Rohan, killed by suspicious men in their sleep.

The entire wood had fallen into mourning, for the bright and beautiful crown Princess had been deeply loved by her people. But none had been affected as much as Talagan.

He had stayed in the wood for two yeas after her death, yet the sounds of his harp and voice never again filled the wood. No longer were there songs of trees and rivers. There were no more ridiculous bouts of making up outrageous songs with his sister. Those had been two long years. Finally, he had gone to Thranduil had asking to sail to the Undying Lands. He hoped to be united with Laurinar, and Thranduil and Lauredhiel had agreed sadly.

Nearly two thousand years had passed since then, and much had happened in that time. Shadow in Greenwood, now known to the world as _Mirkwood,_ a name that the wood-elves abhorred, was growing, despite the fact that Gandalf the Grey had just departed from them after having freed the forest from Sauron's grip. It seemed that the world truly was changing, just as Galadriel had predicted.

His remaining children, sons Legolas and Thoronsul had grown up under the influence of the Necromancer in the south, though both had been centuries old when the hated creature had come to their home. Thranduil hated that he was powerless to protect the forest any more than the already-vigilant patrols that went out at regular intervals. Mirkwood's ruler, after all, possessed no magic Ring to make his realm into an insulated safe haven.

Thranduil left the gallery after some time. He wandered through the halls aimlessly. There were no councils scheduled for today, since it was the wood-elves' Mid-Winter Feasting Day. Few were the days on which the wood-elves were able to give into their playful and partying nature. Today and night would be filled with drinking and laughter, food and games. Yet Thranduil could not help think that perhaps if things had been different, Talagan would be singing and Laurinar would be acting at this festival.

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Characters:

**Thranduil:** King of Greenwood.

**Lauredhiel:** Queen of Lauredhiel, wife of Thranduil. Killed in 165 T.A by a fall from her horse.

**Laurinar:** Eldest daughter of Thranduil and Lauredhiel, twin sister to Talagan. Killed by Rohirric men in 148 T.A.

**Talagan: **eldest son of Thranduil, twin brother of Laurinar. Sailed to Valinor in 150 T.A. after the passing of Laurinar

**Thoronsul:**Second son of Thranduil.

**Legolas: **_duuuuuuuuuhhhhhh..._

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That made me sad :( Review please! Get ready for another chapter of either _One by One _or _Someone Said Goodbye. _Which would you like to see first? Let me know!


	12. Insanity

Another Theme! I'm really enjoying this challenge so far, and I can't wait until we get a few of the other ones I have planned!

Keep in mind that everything will be told in time. Thank you to Alanic, ziggy3 & JaydeRayne for reviewing!

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**Insanity**

_by Caelhir_

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Year 3017 Third Age Middle Earth

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"This is _ridiculous."_

Legolas grumbled sourly to his good friend Orhanion, who nodded in a surly way. Faces stony and jaws set stiffly, the two tall young elves made their way hastily down three sets of stairs to the dungeons, where they had been sent by their task-master.

A messenger from Imladris had departed a few days ago after having dropped off a "visitor." Legolas had not seen the messenger, but he had heard whisperings and mentions of a human had been made. Legolas knew this was utter rubbish. Imladris wouldn't allow a human to carry important messages; surely they had more class and dignity than that!

Neither Legolas' father nor the task-master of the younger warriors had gone into detail about who or what this "visitor" was, but both Orhanion and Legolas were intelligent enough to pick up on the hints that it was not pleasant. After three days of waiting, they had finally been assigned to a guarding of the "visitor."

They made it down the stairs and into the dungeons, where, instead of the musty, not unpleasant cave-smell and gentle tap-tap of water dripping from stalactites, they were greeted by two other frantic guards, who were holding their hands over their ears to escape the harsh, grinding wails emanating from one cell. Legolas and Orhanion winced and nodded greeting to the other guards, mutual friends of theirs named Fareth and Galenir respectively. Fareth shouted to Legolas and Orhanion over the noise:

"He;s easy enough to guard and watch, if you're deaf, that is! Just don't get too close– Galenir's been bit already!"

Galenir grimaced and nodded, turning his hand to show them the deep crescent-moon-shaped bite mark across his palm and the back of his hand.

"I was only trying to offer him some food, but he hissed, screeched, and lunged," Galenir said bitterly, glaring at the cell door, "and before I could get out of the way, he bit me!"

Fareth clapped his friend on the back, and the two left, bidding Legolas and Orhanion a good watch. They traipsed up the stairs and out of sight. Legolas fell into the chair that stood next to the guard's table. Orhanion sat next to him, and picked up a tankard peering hopefully into it. He set it down with a sigh.

"Why is the wine always gone when I get here?" he asked of no one in particular.

They spent the first hour playing a game that they had learned on their first, disastrous patrol together.* Legolas, Orhanion, an elleth named Linallin, their captain Sermathor, and Legolas' brother Thoronsul were the only survivors of that patrol. It was a difficult game to play, given the memories attached to it, but it was a way to pass time.

Legolas thought of a word, then as soon as he said it, Orhanion has to say the first word that came to mind. No pausing and no hesitation was allowed. So far Legolas had come up with, "frog." Orhanion had retaliated with "pond," Legolas with "drowning," and Orhanion with "drill-masters." That had set them laughing until they were joined by another close friend and skilled young warrioress, Linallin, who had also been on that patrol. She had brought with her a cask of wine, and she joined in with gusto. Soon enough they were right back in the swing of it.

"Chickens," said Orhanion.

"Feasts," Legolas said hastily.

"Itchy clothes," said Linallin.

"Being naked!"

"Drunkenness!"

"You!"

"Hey!"

"Well, it's true, you're always–"

"Wine!" giggled Orhanion. "Wine!"

Linallin rolled her eyes and said, "Barrels."

"Dwarves," Legolas said, smirking at Orhanion, who sobered instantly. Orhanion had been one of the sleeping guards when that disaster with the escaping dwarves had occurred. As much as they could, Legolas and Linallin, with the help of their other friends, especially with the valuable help of Thramaer the messenger, had never let Orhanion forget it.

Finally, after about two hours of ribbing and good-natured teasing, Legolas stood and stretched. Orhanion stood as well and eyed the cell, where the creature's wails had died into a fitful whimpering.

"Perhaps we should take him outside to see daylight," Orhanion suggested. Legolas snorted.

"What, and see him gone before we can blink? No."

Linallin joined them. "Thramaer tells me there is a tree in which some of the other guards allow him to sit, if he behaves. We could take him there."

Despite Legolas' misgivings, he agreed, though on the condition that there be at least five in the guard-party. Two other warriors, an elleth named Bereth and an ellon called Talanar, joined them, as well as Thramaer, incase anything happened. He would be able to run back to the palace and get help.

They led the miserable creature Gollum to his tree, and there he sat, cursing and spitting at them, unable to escape for the binds on his neck and arms. The elves would take no chances.

Once, at the end of the day when Legolas and his company took Gollum to his tree, the creature refused to come down, shrieking and cursing, pulling on his end of the rope until Linallin lost her hold on it. She swore as the tension of the rope suddenly released and she fell onto the ground.

Legolas was about to threaten Gollum with an arrow, but his perception of the woods around him suddenly changed. His instincts were screaming _Danger! Danger! Run, Run!_

He turned to his companions, but he could see in their eyes that they had experienced the same sense. Orhanion glared into the tree.

"Forget the miserable little wretch," he spat. "It can die out here if it cares to, but I won't!"

Personally, Legolas was inclined to agree with him. Talanar spoke up.

"Mithrandir and King Thrnaduil charged us with keeping the wretched little beast safe, and as much as I would like to leave it out here to die, let's do our best to get it down before we flee." Reluctantly, the others agreed, though Linallin still looked ready to jump into the tree and slaughter Gollum right then and there.

After ten more minutes of fruitless coaxing, they nearly gave up and were about to turn and go away when they collectively picked up on the danger.

Orcs.

They exchanged glances. They were too few, only six, and there was no way they could safely get back to the palace before the orcs would be upon them. Mithrandir had charged them with protecting the little beast Gollum, and whatever their personal disagreements with him may have been, they knew the wizard would not have assigned them such a task unless it was all met each other's eyes until finally they all looked at Thramaer. Legolas spoke for the warriors.

"Go, Thramaer. Fly back to my father and get us help. Be fast." Thramaer nodded, though his eyes shone with sadness for his friends. It was suicide, and they all knew it.

Thramaer turned and flew away, haring through the trees silently as his training had instructed him. Legolas, Linallin, Orhanion, Talanar and Bereth shared final glances, affirming each other and bidding each other farewell.

The orcs crashed through the trees into the clearing, and Legolas heard Gollum hiss triumphantly once before all erupted into chaos around them.

/\/\/\/\

Thramaer flew into the palace, panting and breath searing his throat, but he did not stop. He burst into Thranduil's hall, not heeding the door-guards' stepping out of the way and holding open the doors. Door-guards, however indignant they might be at times, knew not to stop a messenger who looked as panicked as Thramaer must have.

Thranduil looked up, slightly surprised as Thramaer's usually-dignified manners escaped him, leaving him in a breathless panic at Thranduil'sthrone. Thranduil leaned forward.

"Thramaer? What is wrong?"

Thramaer was so exhausted, having nearly sprinted the iles back to palace. The hall was buzzing and spinning oddly aroud him, and he nearly sank to the ground. But his message was more important, and he locked his knees and met Thranduil's eyes.

"The creature–" he whispered, "–the creature –we tried –were guarding –I ran–"

He knew he made no sense, so he drew in a breath, centered himself, tried not to collapse, and began again.

"Orcs– many orcs– in the creature's clearing– Legolas– and Orhanion– Linallin– Bereth and Talanar– They don't stand a chance– My lord– send help."

And with that, he could stand no more. He collapsed as the hall erupted around him. The last thing he heard was Thranduil shouting orders.

_Good,_ he thought as the world spun away from him and he felt hands on his shoulders, _They're getting help._

/\/\/\/\

Legolas and Orhanion had learned fighting at the hands of the best in Greenwood. They had seen many years of fighting, and after their first, disastrous patrol, the two of them, along with Linallin and Talanar and Bereth had strive to become the best Greenwood had ever seen. And they were.

But even the best could not hold out, not with so few, not when they were so outnumbered by their foe. they fought hard, but when Talanar was struck down, neck bubbling blood, eyes wide and panicked, the orcs had become more confident, and the elves, more desperate.

As their desperation lent them adrenaline, it began to pour. Rain streamed down upon them, making it impossible to see more than a few feet into the fray. Orhanion and Bereth fell as well, and then it was Linallin and Legolas against the rest of the orcs.

They met eyes. Legolas smiled grimly.

"I've enjoyed serving with you, Linallin." She nodded, grinning in a slightly macabre way, the blood from her split lip painting her teeth red. Legolas knew he looked no better.

"Yes, and I you,Legolas. I'll see you soon, friend."

"And you."

With that, the two reamaining elves dove into their last fight for life with such fervor and ferocity that the orcs were momentarily thrown off-guard. Bu thtey recovered, and soon enough, Legolas was hit hard by a sword to his chest. A knife sliced his leg, and his eye was swollen shut. Blood from a sizable head-wound streamed into his eyes. Linallin was clinging to him. He couldn't tell whether she was trying to keep him standing or if it was the other way around, but he couldn't see her for his faltering vision. He heard horses and shouts, but it was too late.

Legolas and Linallin fell together, injured, weary, and defeated. Greenwood's best streamed into the clearing and slaughtered the orcs.

Warriors knelt among the carnage, turning the indistinguishable bodies over to find their warrior mates. Sermathor, the young warriors's captain, shouted as he found Bereth and Orhanion lying next to each other. Thramaer stared hopelessly at the muddy bodies, praying that he wouldn't find Legolas dead.

Three of the five brave young warriors were found. Legolas and Linallin were still missing.

Talanar was not yet dead, but was beyond hope. His throat was slashed roughly, but not fatally, and his arms looked crushed beyond repair. His stomach gaped with a horrible wound and his eye was bleeding from its empty socket. He rasped weakly for them to end his pain, and the other warriors stepped back respectfully as Sermathor, Talanar's idol and mentor, complied sadly, whispering prayer for the tortured soul to find peace.

Bereth was blind, her eyes scratched by an orcs dirty claws. Her face, like Talanar's, bore cuts and bruises, and she seemed to be on her way to following Talanar, her back torn into shreds from the orcs' ruthlessness. She murmured faintly as her sister wept over her.

Orhanion wept in his pain from a deep, ragged wound to his chest that was threatening his life, though he tried to hide his agonized tears. Halinar, Talanar's sister, wept for her brother as she cradled Orhanion's shoulders, telling him that anyone would cry if _they_ were nearly cut in half, too. Orhanion mumbled about Legolas and Linallin, and Halinar soothed him, telling him that Linallin and Legolas would be found soon.

Thoronsul, who was with the rescue party, stalked silently around the clearing, scanning the bodies for any sign of his brother and Linallin. His eyes alighted upon Linallin's distinctive silvery hair, and he rushed towards her, calling for help. He skidded in the mud, falling to his knees more forcefully than he'd intended. Turning her over, he feared the worst.

Linallin stared at him, eyes unfocused but alive. She seemed dazed and Thoronsul didn't blame her. Her shoulder and chest were laid open by two deep wounds. Her face was crusted with blood and she mumbled softly, "Legolas, Legolas. Help him, Thoronsul."

Thoronsul pushed the hair form her face and pulled her into his arms, rocking her softly as others searched for Legolas. Thoronsul felt the stirrings of an even-deeper panic than he'd felt upon arrival to the scene.

He heard hoofbeats, and looked up to see Thranduil and a group of healers arriving, along wiht a few more, older warriors. Their faces fell as they took in the scene. Thoronsul pulled away from Linallin as her cousin Lothluin took her into his arms.

Thoronsul walked over to his father, who dismounted and rushed to him.

"Where is your brother? What happened? Do any of them yet live?"

Thoronsul wasn't sure which question to answer first, so he simply said, "Orhanion is in the best condition so far. Talanar is dead, and Bereth is on her way to following him. Linallin is badly wounded, but seems to be stable, and Legolas–" he paused to control his shaking voice, "– we haven't found Legolas yet, Father."

Thranduil let out a shaky breath.

"Keep looking. I'll help," was all he said.

But their search was cut off when one of Thoronsul's warriors, Ramathir, called to him, waving furiously. Thranduil and his eldest son rushed to where Ramathir knelt in the mud. Thoronsul's heart jumped into his throat.

Legolas lay face-down in the muddy battle-ground. He was not moving, and was very still. Thoronsul fell to his knees for a second time, reaching out to his brother.

"I wouldn't do that, Thoronsul," Thranduil said quietly. "Look."

Legolas' side was completely torn to nothing, blood dripping steadily into the mud. A cut on his leg and a gash on his head were what Thoronsul could see in addition to the horrible wound. Ramathir pointed, and Thoronsul saw the trouble. Legolas' other side was oddly crushed, as though he had been trampled into the ground in the fight. His ribs were shattered, his whole side strangely smaller than it should have been. Thoronsul held a hand to his mouth in agony for his little Leaf.

"Does he live?" Thranduil asked quietly. Ramathir looked sadly at Thranduil.

"I am unsure, my lord. I dared not disturb his injuries to check. I have no delusions about my lack of healing skill. But if you wish–"

"No," said Thoronsul. "We'll take him home, alive or– or not."

Thranduil called roughly for the healer, who came over and begin to work out how to get Legolas back home. A stretcher was summoned, and Thoronsul helped the healers lift Legolas onto it. They joined the other warriors, who carried stretchers bearing Linallin, Orhanion, and the bodies of Bereth and Talanar. Bereth's sister walked numbly beside Bereth's body, staring blankly at Bereth. Thoronsul placed an arm around the younger warrior's shoulders. It was not a romantic or chivalrous gesture, but one of comfort in a time of pain and sadness.

They made their way silently back to the palace, somewhat fewer in number, as Sermathor had taken all hale warriors present to search the woods for more orcs.

The injured and dead warriors were taken to the Healing Wings when they returned, to be prepared for burial or for returned to his office with his captains to discuss plans of action. Mithrandir must be informed, Thoronsul said as his father departed, and Lord Elrond in Rivendell as well. Thranduil's eyes had hardened at this.

"_Mithrandir_," he snapped angrily, "that grey fool, shoving his burdens onto our people, and where does it always end up? Dead warriors! Dead _children_! _My _children," he said, his voice cracking. Thoronsul blinked back tears. His father had a valid point. Imladris and Lórien were protected from this sort of thing; why hadn't Mithrandir taken the wretched Gollum there instead?

He entered the Healing Wing, where Bereth's and Talanar's families had been summoned. The families of the dead stood silent in grief as they stared in shock at their dead children.

Thoronsul walked to his brother's side. Legolas was on his back, and three healers, including the head healer, Cyrandil. They were working rapidly, gingerly pressing bandages to the wounds and setting ribs as they went. They glanced up at Thoronsul, and Cyrandil stepped aside, motioning Thoronsul to join him.

"Legolas' condition is unstable, Thoronsul. We need to fix him up, set his ribs, stop the bleeding and repair his side. It appears to us that he was trampled by the fight."

Thoronsul nodded numbly, barely hearing Cyrandil's words. Cyrandil seemed to understand this. He placed a getnle hand on Thoronsul's shoulder.

"Get rest. You can see him in the morning."

Thoronsul nodded again and wandered numbly form the room. He made his way not to his bedroom as Cyrandil had suggested, but to his father's office. He stepped aside as a line of officers and captains filed out, several clapping him reassuringly on the shoulder. Sermathor, Thoronsul's own former mentor stopped and offered comforting words.

"We only grow stronger, Thoronsul. Your brother and his fellows were brave."

Thoronsul found his voice.

"He lives."

Sermathor nodded and moved on without speaking. Thoronsul entered his father's office and collapsed into a chair, finally letting his guard down and running an exhausted hand down his face. Sermathor had worked them hard looking for other orcs. He was tired, his brother night not survive the night, and meanwhile, his home was being overrun by evil. Thranduil looked up, wtih scarcely masked pain in his eyes. misinterpreting Thoronsul's gesture.

"He hasn't– he's still–"

"Thoronsul repeated his words to Sermathor. "He lives. But Cyrandil and the others are working on his wounds. We should be with him," he muttered.

Thranduil leaned back in his chair. "I know myself. I'd only hinder them with worry. But we will go soon. First–"

Thranduil stood and gathered two cups and a decanter of wine. "a drink to his life, Orhanion's, Linallin's, and to Bereth and Talanar. For their courage and heart, and that their souls find peace."

They drank and when they were finished, Thoronsul looked seriously at his father. "Now what do we do?"

Thranduil nodded blankly.

"We send word to Imladris. I cannot think of a more unpleasant, but anymore wise, course of action. Elrond can help."

"How?"

Thranduil sighed. "I don't know, Thoronsul."

Thoronsul sat up. "I will take the message to Elrond. Send me."

Thranduil nodded. You, and Legolas, when he's fit to travel. He's been submerged in shadow for to long, and he will join you. And Linallin and Orhanion, if they'll consent and are fit. All three of them are so young and so free still. It's a shame to have to send them to this Shadow and darkness every day."

Thoronsul left the office sometimes later mulling over his upcoming travel. Elrond would be told and then what? Would he send help back with Thoronsul? Would he use his magic Ring? What _was_ there to do in a place like Mirkwood, once Greenwood?

Thoronsul walked on and went to bed, oblivious to the very sharp hairpin turn his life was about encounter.

The One Ring had been found. Middle Earth was about to change very rapidly.

Thoronsul, for now, laid in his bed and stared at the ceiling.

"This is _insane!"_ he said to himself.

If only he knew...

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*See chapters 6 & 7.


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